Immortal
by elspeth20
Summary: The last installment of the Trials of Light and Darkness epic has arrived. The Avenger, the Protector, and the Mender. The Lost Immortals. Everdark. It all ends here.
1. Prologue

Immortal

A Trials of Light and Darkness Story

* * *

Prologue

 _At first, when I began to have visions of the past after I recovered Ceristo's locket, I didn't even notice all the little inconsistencies that set the visions apart from Wulfric Shaw's retelling of Everdark's first invasion. I was too excited to look beyond the veneer._

 _Elsa's diary_

* * *

The Countryside of England,

December 12th, 1843

Hans Westergaard watched the lazy snowflakes drift past the window of his train's compartment. Underneath him, the seat vibrated slightly from the chugging motion of the big locomotive down the track. He didn't feel as if he were moving quickly, yet the whitened countryside beyond his window flew past, moving faster even than it would atop the back of a galloping horse.

Snow was more common in these parts of England than in the Moorish country, but locomotives were certainly not. The big metal behemoths were new here, the tracks laid just last summer. The inside of Hans's compartment still smelled faintly of paint and lacquer. Times were changing, and the world seemed to be speeding up.

Hans reached inside his jacket and idly removed one of the six-shooter pistols that he carried from its underarm holster to check the safety. Three months ago, an ancient evil called Everdark had staged a massive invasion of the earth, using an army of skilled wizards and the emptied pits of hell to serve as an army. In Arendelle, Hans, Elsa and the others had barely been able to survive. In the aftermath, they'd realized that the world would need to band together to survive, and under the orders of the newly crowned empress Anna Siguror, Hans had set out to England to try to further that goal.

And so he rode a train across the countryside towards London, trying to figure out how he was going to get the English to agree to join the Unified Empire. Their little nation had gained legitimacy since Corona become a part of it, but it was still going to be difficult to convince them of anything. Hell, it had been a tough sell to get _Corona_ to join them, and Elsa and Anna were related to the rulers there.

There was a knock at the door to Hans's compartment, and he glanced over at it. He was alone in his compartment, not because he was riding first class, but because it was a Sunday and the train was undersold. He stowed his pistol away and got it. A crisp Englishman with a gray little mustache nodded to him.

"We will be arriving at the station within the hour, sir."

"Thank you," Hans said, nodding. "Have you checked the crew registrar?"

The man frowned, indicating his distaste at being asked to do such an improper thing. "Yes, sir," he replied. "And I can assure you that none of the things that you said we might find there were true. The entire crew is known to me, sir, and they are all quite experienced with the operation of this machine."

"Well, thank you anyway, then," Hans said. He nodded again, and the man continued down the hallway, knocking on the door of the next compartment to bring them the same news.

Hans stepped out of his own and started walking backwards, towards the dining car at the back of the train. He hadn't really expected any servants of Everdark to have replaced one or more of the crew, but he couldn't be too sure, these days. He reached the door and nodded to a young man in a uniform who was stationed there to help elderly people and the frail cross the juncture between the cars.

"Heading for the dining car, Mr. Westergaard?" The man asked.

"Yes, Arthur, I think that I'd like a cup of coffee before we reach the station," Hans replied. It really was early in the morning, but that wasn't what he was headed this way for.

"Sounds good, Mr. Westergaard. Be careful, it's very cold out."

Hans stepped out into the air, surprised by how dramatic the blast of cold was. Snow blew into his face, seeming much more violent out here than from his window back on the train. He reached out and closed a hand around the iron railing, quickly making his way over to the other car. The rattling of the cars was amplified out here, and though they were crossing over relatively flat countryside, Hans had to concentrate to keep his balance.

He opened the door to the dining car and stepped in amidst a flurry of snowflakes, nodding to the lone couple sitting at the bar who had turned to look at him. Hans walked across the car, which was about the same size as the one his compartment was in, but seemed far larger, because the space was more open, and sat at one of the booths. There was a stand for a little flag on the table that he could raise to get the attention of a waiter. He put it up, and took a newspaper from the box beside the wall and unfolded it.

It was old – they wouldn't have today's paper yet, of course, they'd been driving all morning – the front-page headline was about an ongoing labor dispute in Sussex. There was still no mention of Everdark's invasion in the British media. Hans wasn't sure whether they were somehow unaware of the events, or if this was another sign of Everdark's ability to subtly influence the world. Either way, England was going to be caught unaware when the warpath came to them.

The waiter came over, and Hans ordered a cup of coffee, and then he settled back into his seat, tuning out the newspaper in front of him and doing his best to listen to the young couple sitting at the bar. This couple had been traveling on the same route as him since his trip to London began, and each morning when he went to the dining car for a cup of coffee, they were already in it. Hans was an early riser. He wasn't positive that the couple was tailing him, but he wanted to be sure.

So now he was playing cat-and-mouse with them.

The couple spoke in low tones, and it took Hans a few moments to discern that the woman wasn't speaking English. It sounded like Russian to him. The man replied to her, in English. His voice was low, but more distinct than the woman beside him.

"If you don't want to do it, you don't have to. I just need you to support me."

She replied, sounding pensive.

"I know. I know. But try to think about all of the work that we put in to this. We can't walk away from this anymore."

Hans lost the next few seconds of their conversation as the train's horn blew, loud and long. He frowned. Normally the engineer wouldn't use the horn this early in the morning, because it would wake everyone on board. That meant there had to be… something on the track ahead? Hans set down his paper as the horn subsided and saw the door to the car closing. The bar was empty.

Hans stood up just as the waiter was walking back over to Hans's table with a pot of coffee. Hans tossed a crumpled bill on the table and didn't wait to explain, rushing after the pair.

He stepped out again onto the connection between the cars, immediately buffeted by the wind. It was even stronger now, the snow piling up in drifts two feet high around the tracks. The train dominated his vision – he couldn't see what the problem was, on the tracks up ahead. He looked around himself, and saw a ladder, beside the door into the next car, that lead up to the roof.

Anna had said that he needed to be less impulsive. But this seemed like a better idea than trying to chase the couple through the train. Hans dashed over to the ladder and started to climb.

xxx

He clambered up quickly, stopping once to adjust the scarf that he wore, pulling it up tighter against the wind. He reached the top and stepped onto the top of the car, which was forgivingly flat, and he crouched there for a few moments. He was near the back of the train, and the locomotive began to round a bend in the track some several hundred feet away. It was loud up here, a cacophony of metal chunking noises playing over a constant, steady roar.

Hans turned to his left and saw another train, perhaps a quarter mile away and running on a track practically parallel to their own. Hans's train blasted its horn again, and Hans realized that the other train shouldn't be there. The tracks were going to meet somewhere soon, and both of the trains were going to be there when they did.

Hans stood up, extending his arms in either direction for balance, and started to run forwards, along the train. He reached a juncture between cars and jumped without thinking. For a moment he soared, adrift amidst a sea of flurries. Then he landed hard, falling to one knee.

"Why did I know that you'd be up here?" A voice called out from behind him.

Hans frowned, and turned as he stood. Three men in dark coats had stepped up on to the roof of the car just behind his own. They were tall, burly men, and they all wore masks. The couple, it seemed, weren't alone on this train. Hans threw his coat open and reached for his guns, but the lead man shouted to him again.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. You see," he said, reaching into his own coat and removing a pistol of his own, "we have you very outgunned, and you don't have any cover. They say that you're a daring man, Hans Westergaard, but I'm sure that even you can see reason."

As the man spoke, his goons each raised a rifle and trained them on him. Hans wondered if the kick from such large arms might be enough to knock them off the train. He glanced to the side again, at the other train. He had no idea how far away down the track they would meet. Did the train look closer than before? He couldn't tell.

Well, it was time to make some decisions.

Hans set his jaw and fired three rounds at the men even as he collapsed to the roof of the train. The bullets went wild, but he just needed to make them flinch. He saw muzzle flashes from the rifles, and then he fell _through_ the roof of the car, slipping through wood and steel as if it were no more substantial than a bedsheet. He landed in the middle of a passenger compartment with a loud crash. He heard screaming, and as he rolled to his feet he saw an elderly man and woman staring at him with horror.

"Get under your seats," he said. "Lock the door to your compartment and get under your seats. Don't let anyone in."

He threw open the door and stepped back into the hallway, shutting it behind him. He heard the shouting of the men faintly over the roaring of the train. He had a few seconds before they got down to this car.

Hans was quite sure that he was one of a very short list of humans to have had not one magical ability in his lifetime, but three. Considering that he hadn't been born with any, he thought that was a pretty good record. For most of the last year, he'd had abilities granted to him by a series of complex rituals performed by Hades, his old master. He'd become a wizard by necessity, to help fight against the growing darkness. He'd lost those powers a few months ago, when he died.

Of course, he'd come back to life, and with a whole new set of magical abilities to make killing bad guys easier. Apparently, his work on earth wasn't done, and the universe seemed determined that he see it through.

All the same, he wasn't eager to push his luck and die again any time soon.

Hans ran along the corridor between the compartments, casting each door open and shouting a warning to the occupants. Finally, he opened a door and found it empty inside. He left the door open and ducked behind it just as a bang and a blast of wintery air marked Hans's assailants entering the car.

He shoved one of his guns back into its holster and gripped the other with two hands, crouching completely inside the compartment. He needed accuracy now. One of the men tried a shot, and a bullet splintered the open door. A chip of wood stung Hans's cheek.

 _Damn. I sort of hoped that thing would be able to take a bullet,_ he thought.

"Come on, Hans!" The leader called out again. "Don't make us start shooting civilians!"

Hans wasn't surprised that his identity had been compromised – after all, he was traveling under his real name – but he hadn't expected servants of Everdark to find him before he even got to London.

 _It was sloppy to not travel under an alias,_ he thought. _It's getting harder and harder to stay ahead of the Cult of Entropy._

"That's not much of a threat, considering that everyone on this train is going to die anyway," he called back. It was a bluff, of course, but he just needed to stall them.

He started to creep forwards, the sound of his movement lost under the roar of the train. He crouched behind the door now, holding the pistol by his side and getting ready to shoot.

"Oh, Hans? You don't have a grand, noble plan to try to save them all?"

Hans frowned. It sounded like an invitation, to try to get him to talk more. What if they had the same plan he did? Hans swore and whirled around to the other side of the car. The door was still closed. Maybe –

The window in Hans's compartment exploded, and one of the men swung through it. Before Hans could get his gun to bear, the man swung a meaty fist down and clobbered the top of Hans's head. He hit the ground and almost lost control of his pistol, gasping with pain. The man stomped on Hans's hand, and he heard something crunch. He let go of the gun and took two more heavy blows as he dragged himself to his feet. Splinters tore at his arms as another bullet hit the doorway.

There was screaming from the other compartments now. Hans gritted his teeth and swung back, landing a solid blow on the man's left temple. His head spun, and he stumbled back against the wall of the compartment.

Hans leapt forwards and landed three body blows in quick succession. The man doubled over, and Hans rammed his elbow into the back of the man's head. He hit the floor, and Hans whipped about to look for his gun. The train jostled abruptly, and Hans cast a glance out the window. He could see the other train through it, racing alongside far closer than before. They were getting down to the wire. Hans found his gun and picked it up, wincing at the pain in his fingers. At least one was broken.

Hans turned around to cast another glance at the fallen man. After a moment's thought, Hans didn't shoot him. He wasn't getting up any time soon anyway. Then Hans turned back to the hallway running down the middle of the train. How was he going to get out of here? There were still two hostiles at the other end of the train, both with guns pointed at the splintered doorway that hung open. If he tried to win a firefight with them, he would probably lose. If he tried to run, he'd get shot in the back.

But he didn't have time for this. Their train was still throttling on at full speed, so someone had made it to the engineer. Maybe the couple from before. Maybe there were even more hostiles on this train. Whatever the case, Hans needed a way out. He turned in a half-circle, desperate for something that could help him, and stopped when he saw the open window.

xxx

Hans leapt to the next car, landing roughly. He scrambled to his feet and kept running, in a crouch, along the cars. Once every few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see the forms of the two men he'd left behind clambering up onto the roof to follow him. Hans was halfway to the front of the train now, breath coming heavily. He glanced to his left, and saw the other train now twenty feet away, barreling along full speed ahead. It was made up of shipping containers, not passenger cars.

At least he only had one train full of civilians to worry about.

He reached the edge of the car and got ready to jump to the next when a strange snapping noise cut through the constant roar. He frowned and looked down. A small, circular hole perforated the roof to his left.

 _Of course they wouldn't follow you on to the roof, you idiot,_ some detached part of him thought. _They're just going to shoot up at you from below._

Hans jumped, a flurry of bullets bursting through the roof after him. He landed halfway off the car and pulled himself up with his arms, rolling back to his feet and continuing to run. He picked up the pace and sprinted across the last three cars, counting on sheer luck to keep him alive as bullets snapped through the roof all around him. At last, he reached the locomotive, and he slid the last five feet and swung himself over the side, landing on the connection between the locomotive and the first car.

Almost instantly, the door behind him burst outwards.

Hans whirled and ducked around the dueling cane that whistled past his ear, ramming up against the railing on the side of the little landing. He cast an uneasy glance at the ground rushing by beneath them and then went on the offensive, throwing a quick series of punches at the man who'd stepped out onto the platform with him. It was the man from the dining car earlier; his partner was nowhere to be found.

He took Hans's punch, a blow that should have sent him sprawling, square on the chest and didn't budge. He grinned at Hans.

 _The trick with wizards,_ Hans thought to himself, _is that they look just like normal people until it's too late._

The man rammed his dueling cane into Hans's gut. It lifted Hans off the ground and drove the breath from his lungs, casting him over the railing at the edge of the platform. Hans caught the ice-cold metal and flipped, landing on the other side and ducking another blow. He phased back through the railing and rammed his shoulder into the man's chest, surprising him and making him stumble backwards.

Then Hans gripped the rail and twisted, kicking his opponent underneath the jaw and making him lurch back into the opposite rail. The man brought his cane around and swept it through the air in front of himself, forcing Hans back while he stabilized himself. For a moment, they stood opposite each other, breathing heavily and sizing each other up.

 _I'm not going to be able to outfight this guy,_ Hans thought. _He's stronger than me, and he's armed._

 _Wait a minute. I'm armed too._

Hans reached into his coat and drew his other pistol. Surprise flickered across the man's face an instant before Hans shot him in the head. He tumbled backwards into the railing and fell backwards off of the train, landing with a great plume of snow in a bank beside the track.

Hans turned and wrenched open the door to the locomotive.

Inside he saw a middle-aged man bound with rope to a chair near the wall, while the Russian woman from earlier manned the controls of the train. She whirled about as he stepped in and reached towards her waist.

"Don't go for a weapon," Hans said, aware that she understood English from her conversation with her partner earlier. "I don't want to have to kill you."

She stared at him, face unreadable. Yet her hand stayed.

"I'm stopping this train," Hans said. "And you aren't standing in my way."

It looked like the woman was going to step aside. Then her hand moved.

Hans shot her once in the chest. She looked just as surprised as her partner had as she stumbled backwards and collapsed to the ground, clutching at her chest. She said something Hans didn't understand.

He ran to the engineer and tore his gag away. "Which lever is the brake?"

The engineer's eyes were wild with fear. "She sabotaged it!"

Hans glanced back to the control panel and saw that a big, red lever had been broken from its casing.

 _Fucking hell,_ he thought to himself as he drew a knife from his belt and started to saw at the engineer's bonds.

"Alright, that's fine," he shouted over the roaring train. "We'll uncouple the locomotive from the rest!"

The man shook his head. "It won't matter! The locomotive isn't even accelerating the train anymore! It hasn't gotten any fuel for the last quarter mile or so anyway, at least since you came in! It just takes a damn long time for this thing to slow down without the brake!"

Hans glanced over at the furnace, which was unattended. A great pile of coal lay near it, the shovel abandoned on the floor. He realized that he wasn't going to be able to save everyone.

"Careful!" The engineer said, frightened.

Hans glanced down, and saw that his knife had torn open the man's shirt. He readjusted his blade and gave it another, heavy tug, managing to tear through the last fraying strands and free the man.

"Alright, then, we're going to have to jump!" Hans shouted.

The man stared back, terrified. "What about the others?"

"There's nothing we can do!" Hans said, rushing back out onto the connection and seeing that the other train was now running parallel to their own. Maybe five feet apart. The collision was seconds away. "You need to jump, now!"

The engineer just stood there, paralyzed by fear. Hans wavered momentarily, then ran back and grabbed the man's arm. He dragged him out to the connection and bodily threw the man over the side, into a snowbank. Hans leapt after him, heart lurching for a moment as he fell into the open air. Then he hit the ground, hard.

Then the trains hit each other. Hans picked himself up off the ground and started to sprint, shrapnel raining around him as the air was filled with a roaring louder than anything he'd heard before. One of the trains twisted off of its track and continued to crush into the other, a million tons of steel compounding explosively. Something hit Hans in the back and he hit the ground, knocking his head and losing consciousness.


	2. Chapter One

Arc Seven

Truth

* * *

Chapter One

 _Wulfric Shaw told us that Everdark gained its power from its centers of faith. Without them, it would be nothing._

 _Elsa's diary_

* * *

The Imperial Palace,

Arendelle

December 12th, 1843

"Your child is due in two months' time. It is ridiculous to believe that you are still fit to run this kingdom," the stern woman said, heels clicking on the floor as she passed Anna's desk.

Anna placed one hand on the thick oak frame and the other on the underside of her stomach as she stood, keeping her balance and doing her best to appear graceful.

"A preposterous claim," she replied, lidding her eyebrows in that imperious way Elsa was so good at. "The duties of my office test my mental capacity, not that of my body. Do you claim that my pregnancy has dulled my mind, Sorise?"

Sorise Linkletter swiveled to face the empress, hands on her hips. She looked Anna up and down with appraising eyes. Anna did her best not to waver underneath them.

"No," she said. "Although others might make that claim. What say you to them?"

Anna frowned, rolling the knuckles of one hand through the small of her back. Some days, she felt like an overripe gourd. However, when Elsa had asked her to do this, Anna had committed. And she didn't waver for an instant in her sense of duty.

"I would tell them that they have no place questioning my authority," she said matter-of-factly. "I have a heritage of leadership, and I am educated to play the part. I know more about statecraft than most could hope to –"

"Your majesty," Sorise interrupted, "in these trying times, we do not need a leader who understands the _theory_ of leadership, we need a strong leader! A _mother_ isn't exactly who we need to stand up to the enemy for us."

Anna felt a stab of annoyance. "Well, while I might not have the longest practical record, I think that –"

"No," Sorise said, shaking her head. "Never begin a statement like that by giving up ground. You're just conceding half of the argument to your opponent."

Anna slumped back down into her seat and sighed. "Well, it's not a lie, Sorise. I _don't_ have four years of experience at this like my sister."

Sorise Linkletter took a seat on the other side of the desk and nodded. Her argumentative air had dissipated, leaving behind a woman who looked substantially more matronly than before.

"That is true, your majesty. I'm not asking you to hide your faults. A good ruler must admit to her own inadequacies, but a great ruler will do so in a way that demonstrates her capacity to outweigh those inadequacies."

"What do you mean?" Anna said, knowing that Sorise liked to speak in generalities before tailoring a specific example to their present situation. The royal advisor drummed her fingers on the desk in thought for a few moments before replying.

"Well, you notice I did not say that you must _overcome_ your inadequacies."

"Yes," Anna replied.

"Telling you that you must overcome your inadequacies is platitudinous and wrong," Sorise said. "You cannot, for example, change the fact that you are with child. You cannot change the fact that you are barely more than a child yourself. You cannot change the fact that you are not an experienced head of state."

"Don't just stick to my positives," Anna said jokingly.

"This is not laughing matter, your majesty," Sorise said, though a small twinkle in her eye acknowledged Anna's playfulness. "You must be prepared for any ruler you wish to bring into the Unified Empire to question your merits on any or all of these issues, and you must be prepared to answer for them."

"I know," Anna said. "But I don't know what to do. I mean, you said it yourself. I can't change those things."

"That is why, your majesty," Sorise said, adjusting a small stack of papers on the desk so that they lay flush with the edge, "you must be prepared to explain to these questioning rulers why the positive qualities you possess outweigh the negatives."

"Well, what positive qualities do I have?" Anna asked.

Sorise smiled and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, your majesty. Why don't you answer that question for yourself?"

Anna sighed. She used to feel embarrassed with self-promotion, but she'd gotten past that. Now it just made her feel uncomfortable. Because the truth was, there probably _was_ someone better-suited to run the Unified Empire than her. Like Charles Vander, or maybe Queen Arianna. Someone who'd spent years in power, someone who looked the part more than she did.

But Anna just happened to be the one Elsa and Hans had chosen to put in charge. Sometimes, Anna thought that they'd chosen her because Elsa was confident that she'd be able to use Anna like a puppet. Elsa wasn't exactly the type to give up authority.

"Well?" Sorise said.

Anna frowned. She knew all the answers that she was supposed to give by now, but she decided to say something else. "I'm Elsa's sister."

Sorise was surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean that the three archmages are really the only people left who can save the world, and I'm related to or friends with all three." Anna still didn't like calling Hans a friend, but Elsa trusted him, and she didn't really have the liberty of refusing his help.

"An interesting approach, your majesty," Sorise said. "But I fear that the leaders of nations who haven't experienced the invasion as personally as Arendelle might have a harder time than I of appreciating the nuance of your argument."

"I know," Anna said. "That's exactly the problem that we had in Corona. You can lead a person to truth, but you can't make them believe it."

Sorise frowned. "Do you believe your own words, your majesty?"

"What? That Elsa, Hans and Odette are the only people left who can save the world?" Anna asked. "I guess so, yeah. Kristoff tried his best to stand up to Everdark's army, and he got killed for it."

She almost kept the bitterness out of her voice.

Sorise smiled in a sad, kindly sort of way. She reached a weathered hand across the table and took one of Anna's, brushing the back. "He was very brave, dear child. And very noble. And I do not think that the time is up for ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Don't count out your own abilities, Anna. You are more than Elsa's sister."

Anna looked up, and smiled, blinking a tear away. "Thank you, Sorise."

The royal advisor let go of Anna's hand and stood. "You have other duties to attend to, your majesty, and I shan't keep you from them. Think upon my question, however, because I will ask you again tomorrow. Why do your advantages outweigh your shortcomings, and what are those advantages? I want a good answer."

She stopped near the doorframe. "Look inside yourself, and I suspect that you'll find them."

xxx

Later that day, Anna sat in the situation room beside Odette. There were ten military men in the chamber, half of whom she was still getting to know, because they'd come from the Coronan army. Together, they formed the generals of the Unified Empire's armed forces. A map of Europe and northern Africa was pinned to the large wooden table, but they weren't using it today. Odette was talking.

"I've made contact with Kariena Tae in London," Odette said, "and the wargate seems to be functioning just fine. We'll take some field observations over the next few days. She has some unfortunate news, however: Hans hasn't made it to London yet. As a matter of fact, the entire train that he'd been riding never arrived."

There were looks of concern around the table.

"What was the ETA supposed to be on the train?" One man asked.

"It was supposed to arrive three hours ago, their time," Odette said. "She realized that it hadn't shown up about two hours ago. The train was covering a hundred and fifty miles. It will be a while before she finds out what happened to it."

Murmurs.

Anna laced her hands together and looked around. "Well, men, what are our options?"

"I recommend that we deploy a special forces unit through the wargate to perform a find-and-rescue, your majesty," General Tarson said crisply. The graying man leaned forwards in his seat. "Miss Tae's mission is too valuable to compromise. We can't spare her for the recovery."

"Excuse me, your majesty," Wallace interjected. He was a traditional man from Arianna's army. His face was perpetually red, though he wasn't particularly overweight. "But we can't just send a bunch of armed men into London. We'd cause a debacle. Mind you, we're going to be trying to win their favor, and we don't want to start off on the wrong foot."

"Your majesty, my men can blend," Tarson said. There was certainly a professional rivalry between the two men, the de facto leaders of their own halves of empire's forces. Anna was concerned that the separate armies weren't integrating as well as she'd hoped. "They're trained for this sort of thing."

Wallace opened his mouth to argue further, but Anna held up a hand.

"Thank you both. Are there any other suggestions?"

"Well, your majesty," said Filipe, another Arendane, "outside of letting Miss Tae abandon her mission and go after him, none that I can see. And of course, we don't want her doing that."

"Are we sure that Mr. Westergaard needs saving?" Said another man. "I mean, he literally came back from the dead not two months ago."

"Well, he doesn't think that's going to be happening again soon," Anna said. "But the suggestions are noted. Anything else for me?"

There was silence for a few moments, and then Anna nodded to them. "Thanks, guys. Keep me updated on the situation in Egypt. If Elsa contacts you, I want to know about it. Okay?"

"Yes, your majesty," came the reply.

"All right, see you later," Anna said, taking Odette's hand to stand and walking out of the chamber with her sister's lover.

"He'll be fine," Anna said reassuringly as they walked away from the situation room. They stepped around a pair of harried looking aides. She knew that inexplicably, Odette and Elsa liked Hans. She wasn't sure what he'd done to charm them, but it had worked.

"I know," Odette said. "He always manages to pull through these things. I'll feel better when we hear from Elsa, too."

Anna felt a bit guilty. Though Elsa and Odette were engaged to be married, they'd barely seen each other for the better part of two months. Elsa was needed on the front lines, fighting bad guys, and Odette was needed at home, managing the ever-growing system of portals that connected the center of the empire to its expanding limits. The day of their engagement, Elsa had told Odette that she hoped to be married by Christmas, but that was starting to look like a naïve dream now.

"I'm sorry about that, too," Anna said. "I know you miss her."

Odette smiled gratefully as they rounded a corner in to the more residential part of the 'palace.' They hadn't moved from the late magistrate Namar Sadden's manor, but they'd also gotten sick of calling it that, and the empire had needed a base of operations anyway, so they'd made the christening the same day as Anna's coronation.

"Thanks, Anna," she said, taking her glasses off rubbing them with the edge of her blouse. "At first, I missed the, uh, contact, but now I just wish I could talk to her."

Odette seemed to realize that she was talking to the person who'd assigned Elsa to a mission in Egypt, and she quickly added, "But, I mean, I know that what she's doing is very important. I mean, we're all working very hard to pull this together. You know what I mean."

They reached the door to Anna's study, and she placed a hand on Odette's shoulder. "It's okay to tell me that you're frustrated and you miss her, Odette. I would too, in your situation. When she gets back, I promise that I'll give you both two weeks before I give her another assignment."

Odette blushed. "Two weeks? Oh, I don't know, Anna, that's very generous of you, but I'm not sure –"

"The bad guys can wait a few days," Anna said. "You're allowed to want things for yourself, Odette. And I feel guilty, snatching her away from you for all this time."

Odette smiled. "Thanks, Anna." She started to turn to leave, but stopped herself. "Oh. Did you meet with Sorise earlier?"

"Yes," Anna said. "Remind me to ask Montaigne where he found that woman, again."

Odette winced. "That bad?"

"It'll build character," Anna said. Sorise was determined to be viewed as a biddy by everyone except Anna and Montaigne, and though Anna wasn't sure why, she decided that it wasn't her place to decide. Besides, even if Sorise did have a soft interior, she could still be prickly sometimes.

"Do you think she's making you into a 'fine ruler?'" Odette said, affecting the woman's lofty accent.

Anna laughed. "Yes, I'm quite sure."

xxx

Elsa crouched behind the mason lip at the edge of her rooftop overlooking the market square. A blazing sun beat down upon her, making even her loose, mobile clothing feel stifling and uncomfortable. She adjusted the hood drawn over her head and hazarded a glance over the side. It was midday, and the square was flush with villagers exchanging wares. Crowded enough that there were a million different places for her target to disappear.

Elsa was in a little village along the Nile, leagues away from the more modern cities in the north. Here still lived a farm-and-market way of life. She narrowed her eyes as she swept her gaze around the brightly colored textiles adorning market stalls.

 _There,_ she thought, noticing a man with a sheaf of papers underneath his arm step out of the mosque on the far end of the square. His robes looked much like those of any of the other preachers in this village, save a nonobtrusive black sash tied about his waist. He would have a distinctive tattoo on his chest as well, and he would have a few guards blended somewhere into the crowd. If Elsa hadn't known who her quarry was beforehand, she wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a crowd.

 _At least I_ am _looking for a man,_ she thought, adjusting the black scarf tied around her head. The women in the square wore one quite like it, concealing their entire faces, save a slit around the eyes. Elsa ran in a crouch to the east side of the building and placed one hand on the side, swinging over the edge and landing in a lithe crouch in the shadowed alleyway between the buildings. Then she ran to the edge of the alleyway and peered into the square again.

A steady stream of people flowed past for several seconds. She lost track of the Priest of Entropy.

 _Damn._

Elsa fell into step with the people walking past, matching their pace and lowering her head. All around her, the conversations continued uninterrupted. She fell slightly behind them and merged into another group walking the other way, deeper into the square. One of the men said something to her, but she shook her head and kept walking. The man shrugged and turned away.

 _There he is,_ she thought, picking up the trail again as she saw the priest heading out of the market to the north. She picked up her pace as much as she could while remaining discreet and followed him. Elsa was taller than most of the women in the square, and although her skin had tanned enough that the thin slit visible through her scarf might not immediately mark her as an outsider, her blue eyes certainly would. So she tried to keep her head down.

The priest had brought allies to this little village. Elsa didn't know how many, but it wasn't enough to make the population nervous. Hell, she wasn't even sure why Everdark would care about trying to sway little villages like these. They wouldn't be necessary to take the government down. She could only guess that there was something here that she wasn't aware of yet. They weren't far from the Valley of the Kings – perhaps there was a magical artifact waiting to be recovered?

Something at the edge of Elsa's vision caught her attention. Movement, in the crowd, that seemed out of place. She hurried her pace more, giving up discretion. They'd already found her. She turned into an alleyway and broke into a run, hearing a shout of surprise. She burst out into the street below the market and started to sprint in the direction the priest had gone, hazarding a glance over her shoulder just in time to see three men in dark clothes dash out of the alleyway after her.

 _So much for being sneaky,_ she thought. Hans would have been able to assassinate the priest. Elsa had never been good at blending. She threw a bolt of ice over her shoulder, not caring if it hit. She just wanted to slow them down. They reached a corner and she dashed around it, back onto the road that the priest had taken. She came out onto that street and whipped around. It was empty, save a group of children kicking a dusty leather ball around. They glanced over at her, but she was already in motion again, running towards the only nearby building that wasn't residential, a little one-story library.

She threw open the door and stepped inside, surprising the librarian as she slipped behind a shelf and knelt near the ground.

"Get on the floor," she said with what she hoped was enough urgency that he'd get her general meaning, even if he didn't understand her words. She heard him scrambling around behind the desk.

A few heartbeats later, she heard loud footsteps and rough shouting. It was time to fight. Elsa extended her hand and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and imagining her blade materializing in her hand. There was a rush of cold air, and Rimeheart fell into her hand, releasing a few lazy snowflakes that spiraled towards the floor. It appeared as a long, curved knife, rather than a full sword, a trick that Elsa had figured out only a few weeks before.

She turned and started to pad towards the footsteps.

One man stepped into the same aisle as her, and Elsa leapt forwards, ramming her knife into his chest and twisting, tearing it out and bringing her free elbow into his neck and her knee up into his side. He screamed and collapsed against the bookshelf, rattling it and sending a stream of dusty books to the floor. She heard a shout and a gunshot. Wood splintered near her. She ducked and rolled to the edge of the aisle, pressing herself around the side of another bookshelf just as the other two men discovered their fallen friend.

Elsa took a deep breath, and reached up. If she stretched, she could just barely reach the top of the shelf. She raised one leg and a little, icy platform appeared beneath her foot, holding in the air just long enough for her to boost herself up and scramble on to the top of the shelf. She let it fade as the men reached her end of the aisle and peer about. They'd heard movement, but they were looking near the floor.

She peered down at them. Then she rolled over the side and landed in a crouch behind them. They glanced back and she sprung up, her knife flashing brilliantly in the air. Three quick strikes sprayed blood artfully into the air, and the men collapsed beside their comrade.

She took a few deep breaths, and then walked towards the front of the room, looking back at the desk. She didn't see the librarian.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Shakily, the old man raised his head over the edge of the desk.

"I'm sorry about this," she said, motioning towards the dead men on the floor. "I did not mean to make your library a place of violence. But these men were after my life."

She saw something in the man's face and realized that he understood her. "You can understand English?"

He nodded but didn't speak. Maybe he didn't feel comfortable speaking it.

"Then you know that these men aren't from here," she said. "Foreigners."

He nodded again.

"I'm hunting their leader," she said. "Do you know how to find him?"

The man stared at her. Maybe he hadn't gotten that.

"Do you know the man they follow? A fake holy man?"

The man nodded. Good.

"He left your mosque today with some papers. I think that they were what he came here for. He is leaving now. Do you know where he will go?"

The man thought for a few moments, almost long enough that Elsa wondered if she'd lost him again. Then he stood a bit straighter and pointed north. Towards the Valley of the Kings.

"Thank you," she said, and ran from the store.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 _In hindsight, I wonder how I never seemed to notice that my visions never agreed with this. In the visions, Celestus was always threatened by outside threats, never by corruption within._

 _Elsa's diary_

* * *

London,

England

December 13th, 1843

Hans sat on a small cot in a low-ceilinged room above a tavern in London, hissing as the cloth touched his skin. The sharp smell of pure alcohol grew more intense, and little ripples of pain radiated from his shoulder.

"Hey, watch it," he said, gritting his teeth as Kariena sighed and started to work at cleaning his wounds.

"Has anyone told you that you're incredibly lucky recently?" Kariena Tae asked, wringing the cloth in a basin of water and dabbing a bit more alcohol on it before returning it to his back. "Somehow a two-foot long steel beam stabs you right through and it manages to miss everything important on the way."

"I'd beg to differ about that," Hans said, clamping his hands together and watching the knuckles go white.

"No, I'm serious," Kariena said. "Really, you only broke one bone! I mean, there's some other stuff that sort of looks out of place, but it could have been a lot worse. It's even your left shoulder, so you can still use your right hand!"

"I'm ambidextrous," Hans said. "I had to learn how to shoot two guns at the same time."

"Well, I think that you're just in a bad mood," Kariena said jokingly. She took the cloth away and said, "Alright, I've cleaned you up the best I can. I'd like Odette to take a look at you as soon as she can, but you're not going to fall apart on me for the time being."

She started to wrap white linen around his left shoulder.

Hans sighed. "Thanks, Kariena." He stood up and pulled a shirt over his head. "Let's get a fire started. It's cold in here."

Kariena leaned against the edge of the bed and watched as Hans walked over to the room's hearth. As he started up a fire, Kariena brushed a lock of red hair behind her ear and crossed her arms, appearing pensive.

"Did you ever figure out the names of any of the bad guys on that train?"  
Hans thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "I can't remember any. Actually, I can't remember much at all. I think I hit my head somewhere, getting off of the train."

An orange flame sprung to life, and Hans walked back and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

"But you do remember that you became suspicious that something was wrong when you overheard that couple talking to each other in the dining compartment," she said.

"Yes," Hans said. "The woman was saying something in Russian, and the man with her said something about how if she didn't feel comfortable, she didn't have to do it."

"Do what?" Kariena asked.

Hans shrugged. "Help take over the train, presumably." He glanced at her sidelong. "Do you think that there's something else going on here?"

Kariena bit her lip. "I don't know," she said. "Something about it seems strange. There are way, way easier ways to try to kill you, if that was their goal."

Hans shrugged. "I'm not sure that it was. The couple didn't seem to recognize me."

"But those other fellows, on top of the train, did, right?" Kariena asked.

Hans frowned. "Well, yes, I suppose that they did."

Kariena raised an eyebrow. "Well? Doesn't that seem odd to you?"

"Yes," Hans admitted. "But I don't know what to make of it."  
Kariena sighed and stepped away from the bed. "Well, I don't either." She started across the room, towards the door. "We should get in touch with Arendelle."

"Where did you put the gate?" Hans asked, starting after her and slinging on a heavy jacket. He turned the collar up. He'd been out in the snow quite a bit lately, and he wasn't eager for more. He had frostbite in some of his toes, and if it wasn't for Odette, he'd probably have to get them amputated.

Kariena opened the door. "I put it on top of an abandoned building down by the Thames. There's enough space there for troop deployments if we end up needing it."

"Are we going to end up needing it?" Hans asked as they headed downstairs into the raucous tavern below. He scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, searching for hostile faces. It wouldn't be long before they were discovered again.

"I'm not sure," Kariena replied. "I haven't been able to speak to anyone in power yet. These people might not know that something's amiss yet, but their government certainly does. Their minister has gone underground, I think. At least, I haven't been able to find any trace of him."

"Is it still that Peel fellow?" Hans said, bracing himself as they stepped out into the cold. Despite the late hour, there were still people on the streets. He jammed his hands into his pockets. "Why are there still so many people out?"

They started walking. Kariena slid an arm through Hans's, and he glanced down at her. She was beautiful, he thought, and he realized that he didn't spend enough time appreciating that.

"They're heading to work," Kariena said. "A lot of laborers in this city have really terrible shifts. Fourteen-hour workdays, for some, even kids. Now some enterprising foreman decided that he could get a leg up on his competition if he started a midnight shift, and soon enough most of the others followed suit. I think it's going to start causing political problems eventually. I don't think these people are going to take it."

Hans glanced down as a boy passed them. His face was stained with soot, and his trousers were sodden to the knee from slogging through the slush. He couldn't have been more than fifteen.

"If we end up in control here, we're changing this," Hans said softly.

Kariena nodded. "Yes," she said. "By the way. It's still Robert Peel. But he's rather unpopular right now. He just pushed through an income tax. It's the first one they've had in over a decade. So you can imagine."

"Elsa met him at the Empress's wedding," Hans said. "She told me that he was fussy."

"Well, the English are all fussy, if you ask me," Kariena replied. She glanced up at him and noticed his watching the crowd. "I've been keeping an eye out for tails. I'm not being followed yet. Now that you're here, I guess that might change."

Kariena Tae had grown up on the wrong side of the law in New York City, and she'd had plenty of experience with being followed. Hans nodded, and picked up the pace. He trusted her, but the more he thought about the way the entire encounter on the train didn't make sense, the more it bothered him. Something foul was afoot.

xxx

Anna watched as two forms emerged from the brilliant white portal. She felt a strange vertigo, the same as she always did when she watched someone use a wargate. There was something very unnatural it, magical in a way that made even Elsa's powers seem mundane. Odette stood beside her, fiddling with a long pin through the bun at the back of her head.

"Welcome back," Anna said to the pair. Hans looked hurt, but that was nothing new. He was always managing to get himself into trouble. "We were just about to send a team to try to find you, Hans, but I can see that you made it to London just fine."

Kariena glanced sidelong at Hans. He frowned. "There were… unforeseen complications, your majesty. As a matter of fact, we were hoping to discuss them with you and Odette. And Elsa, if she's back already."

They stood on a large, circular disk of granite, upon which a wooden veranda had been constructed. The portal was housed beneath it. Odette said that it had something to do with the stability of the magics.

"She's not back, yet," Anna said as they turned and started back towards the palace nearby.

There had been some discussion as to whether it was smart to place a portal so close to the imperial palace. If a magnet city fell, and Everdark's forces gained control of one of the portals, it would quickly become a liability. They'd eventually come to the conclusion that it was better to be able to access the portal quickly.

Inside, they entered the situation room. It was clear now, given the late hour, and Hans leaned against it and crossed his arms.

"The train that I was taking towards London got hijacked. There was another train, too, taken by the enemy. There was a crash, and to my knowledge, I am the only survivor. I was identified by name by some of the hijackers, but others seemed not to recognize me. We don't know what to make of it."

He explained that the couple had seen his face on several occasions, and yet they hadn't seemed to know who he was, and yet the other thugs he'd fought had called him out by name. He explained the entire encounter in detail – at least, as much of it as he could remember. Things got hazy near the end, probably because he'd hit his head.

Anna glanced over at Odette when Hans finished talking. The girl was tapping one of her fingers on the edge of the table, staring into the middle distance, lost in thought. She abruptly glanced up and looked over at Hans.

"Well, I suppose we should think about it like this," she said. "There are two possibilities. Either the Russian woman and her companion knew the men who attacked you on top of the train, or they didn't. It seems very unlikely that they didn't know each other for a few reasons."

She ticked them off on her fingers.

"First of all, they appeared to have the same goal. Cause a collision between the trains. That wouldn't happen unless they both knew that they would have the opportunity to cause such a disaster. Second, if both groups had independently decided that they would hijack a train and cause a collision with another, the odds that they would choose the same train at the same time are quite low. Third, you mentioned that the train's horn blew twice early on, but then stopped once you were atop the train cars, right?"

Hans thought about it. "Yes, that's correct."

"The dining car was at the back of the train, correct?"

"Yes," Hans replied.

"Then the couple wouldn't have had time to make it to the front of the train already. But we can guess that the train's engineer stopped blowing the horn only because he was incapacitated. So the locomotive had already been taken before the couple made it to the front of the train."

"Alright, I agree," Hans said.

"But you said that later, you found the Russian woman in the locomotive."

"Yes."

"So I think that we can conclude that some servant of Everdark, possibly a group of them, took over the locomotive initially, but then handed off control to the Russian woman once the couple arrived."

There were nods of agreement around the table, and Anna smiled to herself. No one else among them had the brain that Odette did. Sure, they might have eventually came to the same conclusions, but it would have taken anyone else quite a bit longer.

"But then why did they leave?" Hans asked, mostly rhetorically. "I only saw the one woman in the locomotive when I arrived. Other than the engineer, I mean. So where did they go?"

Odette shrugged. "I mean, maybe once they sabotaged the brake, they decided that their work was done, and they escaped."

"But then why did the Russian woman and her companion stay?" Hans asked. He was beginning to feel like they were close to something.

"They were a distraction," Odette said, almost sounding surprised by her own realization. "It was never about crashing the trains into each other. That was just a way to get you to pay attention to something else while the real work was done. The couple finds something they were looking for in one of the cars, hands it off to the hijackers in the locomotive, and then takes their place while the others escape."

It made sense. At least, more sense than any other explanation had, so far.

"Well I'll be damned," Hans said, rubbing his chin. "You're probably right."

"I guess that we just have to find out what it was they wanted," Kariena said.

"Maybe not," Anna said. "Maybe this is a red herring. We know for certain that bringing England into the empire will be beneficial for us, and in the meantime, I don't need you both chasing down loose ends. We'll have time to learn more later."

It felt like the responsible thing to say, though Anna had to admit, she was curious about the mystery as well. But she had a sneaking suspicion that maybe that was the point. This entire ordeal could very well be a distraction, aimed at wasting their time while Everdark's stain spread further across the globe.

"Those are your orders, your majesty?" Kariena asked.

Anna frowned, and then nodded. "Yes. They are. Have you made contact with the prime minister yet, Kariena?"

"No," she replied. "He's gone underground, I think. The government is close-lipped about it all when they're speaking to the populace, but I think that they're acquainted with the threat."

"Do you think that if I were to go myself and demand audience, I would receive it?"

Kariena shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure. The Unified Empire hasn't been recognized by England, so to them you're not an empress. But perhaps if the princess of Arendelle seeks audience with the prime minister, she'd receive it."

"No good," Anna said. "If they receive me as the princess of Arendelle, then I don't really have the ability to ask them to join the empire."

"Your majesty," Hans said, "they're likely to be even less amenable to meeting with one of us. We aren't exactly what you would call 'ambassadors,' and that would show. It would look like you're sending us to bully them. I think that you should demand an audience yourself. Or at least, send someone who looks like a politician."

Anna nodded. "Okay, you're right. I'll return with the both of you myself. We'll demand to speak to the prime minister tomorrow morning. I'm sick of waiting around for progress to happen without me anyway."

She glanced around the room, challenging any of them to object because of her pregnancy. They did not.

"We'll be happy to have your company, your majesty," Kariena said.

"Good. Is there anything else?" Anna asked. When there was no reply, she nodded. "Very well. We leave in the morning. I suggest that you get some sleep. You're dismissed."

xxx

For the second time in a span of a few hours, Hans sat on a bed with his shirt off. This time, Odette stood behind him, hands placed over each other on top of the unbandaged wound in his shoulder. Hans felt a strange, tingling sensation, and a pleasant warmth. He'd been healed by magic before – in fact, Rapunzel had saved his life with it before – but it was a feeling that was difficult to get used to. He could almost _feel_ the bone growing back, the tendons reattaching, the muscle and skin knitting back together. He was being mended.

"What happened to the train's engineer?" Odette asked.

Kariena sat sideways in an upholstered chair across the room, swinging a black pendant on a gold chain around and around in the air.

"You might not want to hold on to that for too long, Kariena," Odette interrupted herself. "It's a dark artifact. A symbol of its wearer's devotion to Everdark. It made me sick when I touched it."

"Really?" Kariena said, surprised. She stopped swinging the chain and caught the jet, twisting it over and examining it anew. "It feels sort of warm to me. Sort of… I don't know… pleasant."

"Elsa said that too," Odette said, brow knitting. "I suppose that I might have had a specific reaction. Or maybe the amulet itself behaves differently now that I've mended its core. Anyway."

"He died," Hans said as Odette moved around him and started working off one of his shoes. Hans felt nothing, the frostbite having claimed all sensation in his feet. "When I woke up, I looked around for him. I thought I might have saved him when I threw him off the train. But he got hit by some shrapnel, and it took part of his head off."

Odette sighed. "It's never easy, is it? He would have been able to tell us what happened on that train. I know Anna doesn't want us to get distracted by this, but it feels important to me. Everdark's people aren't about wanton destruction. They didn't put considerable effort into crashing that train without expecting to get something in return."

"You're probably right, Odette," Hans said as he wiggled the newly healed toes of his right foot. They were very pink, like he'd just stepped out of hot water. "But so is Anna. We're already trying to play from behind here, and we aren't going to fix that by chasing phantom threads. We have to spread our resources where they'll count the most."

Odette nodded, but she still looked troubled. "I guess I'm just worried that we won't know what the right things to care about were until it's already too late. Anyway. Good luck out there tomorrow."

She finished up with his other foot, and Kariena and Hans left for their own chambers.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 _We were blind._

 _Elsa's diary_

* * *

December 14th, 1843

The Valley of the Kings,

Egypt

The pair of camels crested the windswept dune, cast into silhouette by crimson brilliance of the setting sun. Elsa shaded her eyes and gazed out into the valley below, stretching for miles in every direction. Ancient monuments rose to brush the heavens, taller even than some of the modern buildings in Arendelle, and a great many times the size. They seemed impossible to Elsa – she remembered engineers telling her that the Saint Adelaide Cathedral was as tall as modern engineering could make a building. Perhaps the ancient Egyptians were more ambitious than her civic planners.

"We have arrived, mistress," her guide – what was his name again? – said to her in clipped, accented English. "I do not go further. This place has become dangerous."

It had been hard enough to find a guide willing to lead her through the deserts in the first place, and this man had seemed skittish the entire journey, convinced that an ambush was waiting just beyond the next dune. He thought that she was insane, she was sure. She hadn't given him any reason to believe that she was capable of protecting herself, and she was walking right into what she was quickly learning was a large-scale operation in the Giza valley.

Elsa narrowed her eyes as she swept her gaze about the valley. There were people moving about below. Not many, but still more than she would have expected, in little teams of ten or so people, spread out among the pyramids and steppe temples. They lead pack beasts with them, and in some places had set up camps. From this distance, and in the shadow of the setting sun, Elsa couldn't make out much more about the men, but she knew who they served.

"How many do they number?" She asked.

The guide rubbed his jaw, and glanced around in a frightened manner. "It is difficult to say. They come, they go. Sometimes as many as one hundred, I think."

"There doesn't look to be anywhere close to that number right now," she mused.

"Perhaps," the man replied. "But perhaps a number are in one of the temples now. They do not respect this place as sacred. They are _lusus alqubur._ Tomb robbers."

"Very well," Elsa said, sliding off of her camel and reaching into a satchel held at her side. She hit the ground with a puff of copper-colored sand and tossed a small pouch of spices up to the man. She'd found that commodities held more value than coins here. "You may go. Take my camel with you."

"But mistress, surely you don't plan to leave this place on foot? We are a long walk from the nearest villages. And even they might now be occupied by these robbers."

"I can fend for myself," she answered simply, raising a hand in farewell to him and starting to trot down the sloping sands into the valley. She didn't glance back.

xxx

Though the nearest of the long temples built into the steppes of the slope had seemed quite close from her vantage point at the top of the dunes, Elsa began to get a sense for the sheer scope of the valley as she came closer. For five minutes she trotted along and seemed still to be at the very edge of this magnificently large place. The air was beginning to grow cool, and the bloodred gleam on the horizon bled into purple. Elsa came to a stop when she was finally near the temple.

She could see now that it had clearly been built across many generations – the façade faded and blended into the limestone further into the valley, though it was far more ornamented and detailed near to her. She was beside a large wing that split off from the body of the temple. There was an entrance near to her into the sort of corridor that it formed, leading into the stone of the hillside and the heart of the structure.

Elsa knelt and drew a handful of sand, rubbing it into the grain of her loose trousers. She repeated this for the rest of her clothing, eventually managing to get the white fabric to a shade which more or less matched the color of the sands themselves. It wasn't much for camouflage, and it would get worse as time passed and the shadows deepened, but it might make it so she wouldn't be noticed from afar.

 _Alright,_ she thought. _Let's get to work._

She turned and stepped around the side of the temple's wing and started to jog down the slopes again, heading towards the nearest campsite. She'd spent some time trying to formulate a strategy for her incursion earlier today, and had quickly come to the conclusion that her best bet was to hunt around in the campsites. She didn't know what Everdark was looking for, and she didn't know which of the pyramids or temples it might be located in. But she guessed that there would probably be clues in the campsites.

It sounded more useful than trying to search every monument in the valley, at the very least.

She ran under cover of a sweeping dune as she approached the first of the tents, a big, squarish one with a pyramidal roof held up by stilts below. It was deep, ruddy brown, and rustled slightly in the wind as she came to a stop beside it. She stood very still and listened. There a soft clinking, like that of dining utensils, and the crackling of several fires. There was a low murmur of conversation, unintelligible and mixed. It didn't sound like many voices. She couldn't hear anyone walking around, but there was probably a guard of some sort.

Elsa extended her hand to the side, and Rimeheart materialized, this time a thin blade about a foot and a half long with a short handle. She turned and made a quick slash low to the ground, then rolled through the opening. She came up in a crouch inside what certainly looked to be a command tent. There was a long wooden table set up in the center, with a detailed map of the interior valley laid out upon it. Along the walls there were racks with long rows of rifles, the expensive kind with a magazine. High-tech, and well-equipped.

She was alone, for the moment. She stood up and padded over to the table to look at the map. It was an aerial view, and she was looking at it upside-down relative to where she'd entered the valley, so it took her a moment to find where she was, roughly. There were little notations around some of the monuments, stuff like _Searched 12/7_ and _New passageway leading to at least five anterior tracts._

She tried to read faster, hoping for anything that would give her a clue –

"Intruder!" A man shouted from the entrance to the tent.

Elsa glanced up and saw a tall man wearing a military jacket standing at the threshold. He reached for his side pistol, and Elsa threw up her hand. A field of ice materialized in the air between them, obscuring the bright little bursts of flame from three muzzle flashes. The arcana crystallized into a thick shield just at the points of impact, stopping the bullets in midair. Elsa swept her hand to the side, and the bullets scattered. The man's eyes widened with panic.

"A witch! A witch has gotten –"

A thick spear of ice rammed into his chest and cut him short, knocking him backwards out of the tent. The frantic tolling of an alarm bell split the air, and instantly a cacophony of shouts erupted from the far side of the camp, near where she'd heard the crackling of a campfire.

 _I've got to get better at this infiltration stuff,_ Elsa thought to herself as she briefly glanced back down at the table. Could she steal the map? It was pinned to the table at all four corners, and it was rather large. If she didn't try to take it, then she'd have alerted the enemy to her position for nothing.

 _Well, I suppose I only have one option then._ Elsa ran to the front of the tent and burst through the flaps, leveling her hands towards the rest of the camp and engulfing it in a torrent of ice. She felt a noticeable, instantaneous exertion as the mgaic flowed from her fingertips, rolling through the makeshift streets of the camp and freezing her enemies in their tracks.

A few managed to squeeze off shots at her, one of them coming close enough to tear a slit in the fabric of her loose sleeve. Then all was silent again. Elsa stayed where she was for a few seconds, trying to pick out any movement from the camp, before turning back inside and starting to pull up the pins holding the map in place. Her mind churned, trying to figure out what her best plan of action was.

Try to figure out what Everdark's plan was tonight, and go after its servants? Or regroup with Anna and the other in Arendelle first, and possibly bring backup? On the one hand, she hadn't managed to remain clandestine. Again. So Everdark's servants would already know that their plans had been compromised, and they'd be ready for her if she waited. But on the other hand, she wasn't eager to walk into a situation that was over her head again, like that battle in New York City that had gotten her, Odette and Kariena captured, or the one at the Worldgate that had killed some loyal friends.

She tossed the last pin aside and started to fold the map together, trying to move quickly. She fumbled with the large paper for a few precious seconds before she got it together and tucked it into her satchel. Other bells were ringing now at other campsites in the valley, faintly audible over the pounding of her heart.

In the spur of the moment, Elsa decided to play this out. She ran out of the tent again, skating through the camp on the thin sheet of ice she'd made until she hit the open sand again. Gas lanterns had been lit at the different sites throughout the valley, and in their little pools of gold she could see men getting on horses. One group had already started to gallop towards her.

"Okay, okay," she murmured to herself, turning and dashing towards the nearest monument, that steppe temple she'd hit behind earlier. It took her back towards the mouth of the valley as well, which was useful should she need to escape. "It's maybe thirty, forty guys. Maybe three or four of them are wizards. I can take that many."

The only problem was, she'd already spent a lot of energy freezing the soldiers back in the camp, probably too much energy to waste on five men. Her magic was consumptive, meaning that her magic drew its power from her own energy. The effort of spellcasting was, for Elsa, pretty comparable to the effort of hard exercise. Of course, that meant she could only do so much at a time. Fighting so many men would push her to her limits.

She hazarded a glance over her shoulder, and saw that the men had noticed her. The first group galloped past the camp, steadily gaining on her as she reached the lowest level of the open-faced temple and dashed into the interior. She was plunged into darkness, and for a moment she faltered and fell to a stop, afraid of running into a wall. Then she summoned Rimeheart, and a brilliant white-blue beacon erupted in the blackness, casting a soft glow out to the walls on either side.

Instantly, she heard gunshots from behind. Bullets snapped around her, the impacts kicking up little puffs of clay into the air. She ran deeper, through the atrium and into a narrower hallway. Ancient hieroglyphics flashed on the walls as she sprinted past them, choosing branches at random a few times until she ended up in a small room with only one entrance. She'd completely lost her sense of direction, and she heard the pounding footsteps of her pursuers behind.

The room's walls were bare, a rather stark departure from the highly engraved corridors that lead to it, but the blank spaces were proportioned such that it was easy to envision that tapestries might once have been hung on them. Indeed, a few inches down from the ceiling in the chamber, scoring pitted the walls from where the hooks once hung. There was no remnant of any furnishings that might once have been in the room, save a series of indented nooks on the back wall that were probably once compartments.

Elsa felt an instant of crushing claustrophobia, a feeling of being trapped in a place very far from home, thousands of years after anyone had inhabited this place. Then it passed, and she pressed herself against the wall near the door and waited.

They didn't make her wait long. Less than a minute had passed when the first men burst through the opening, swords drawn. Elsa dashed inwards and swept her blade through them all in a broad sweep, her sword encountering no resistance from their flesh. A loud boom filled the chamber, and she whirled to send a sheet of ice into the men surging through the corridor. Muzzles flashed, and the shield shattered, sending shards into their ranks. Screams filled the chamber.

Elsa dashed out of the little room, sweeping her sword about herself to deliver the killing blows to fallen men. She was halfway down the corridor when a hand clamped her leg. She tumbled unceremoniously to the ground and kicked at the iron grip, spinning around to look at the man dragging himself to his feet behind her. Despite the magics that had torn apart his comrades, his body was unscathed. A wizard, of some sort.

Elsa couldn't react before a gleam flashed and a sudden spray of blood arced through the air. She instinctively exploded outwards with shards of ice in every direction, pinning the man to the opposite wall with three long icicles. Then she glanced down as she dragged herself to her feet, seeing a wide, shallow gash running from the bottom of her ribcage on the left to her right shoulder. Blood ran from the wound excessively.

Elsa winced and ran her hands along the tear, sealing a cap of ice over it. It wasn't a perfect solution, by any means, but it would keep her from bleeding out until she could get someone to look at it – preferably Odette. She glanced back up at the wizard, who had shown himself to be a variety called a _sprinter._ He was fumbling with his belt, where a pistol was holstered. His right arm wasn't working properly, as one of the icicles had gone through it near the elbow, and he was awkward with his left. Elsa recalled Rimeheart and plunged it into his chest before turning and continuing her flight from the temple.

She heard shouts from elsewhere within the labyrinthine corridors, and she found herself struggling to recall the path she'd taken as she tried to make her way back to the atrium. Finally, breathless from exertion, she came to a stop at an intersection between two hallways and leaned against one of the walls. This was starting to slip away from her.

A trio rounded a corner down one hallway, and Elsa immediately called a barrier, but it was sloppier than before, and when they fired, she felt a dull thud in the side. She slumped backwards into the wall and threw a few bolts of ice at the men to scatter them, finding the gunshot wound and sealing that, too.

 _I need to get out of here._ She turned and sprinted away from the men, rounding another corner and gasping with relief as she saw the temple's atrium open up before her. There were a few men in here, but they were far away, and Elsa stepped into the shadows at the edge of the chamber before any turned to see her.

She started to run again, making her way to the open face of the temple and back out into the night, stuttering for a moment when the now-cold night air hit her. There were teams of horses waiting a hundred or so feet to her right.

She slipped back into the shadows, and studied them for a moment, biting back the pain in her chest and her side. The shock had worn off, and her body was determined to remind her that it wasn't made for this sort of thing. The horses weren't unattended, of course – they would be prepared for her to slip back outside – but they weren't exactly heavily guarded, either. There was maybe five men spread out among them.

 _Okay, five more,_ she thought. _I can do five more._

She made the ground beneath herself slick with ice and stepped forwards, sliding down the eroded steps leading into the temple and skating towards the horses under cover of shadow. She started to curve wide around them, staying clear of the lanterns that the guards carried. She came to a stop behind the last of the horses and crouched.

There was no way that she'd be able to take one of the horses without one of them noticing her, so instead she started to creep forwards in a crouch, tailing the nearest of the men. He strolled around the edge of all the beasts, maybe twenty in number, and spread out across fifty or so feet, and he whistled softly to himself. Elsa sped up the last few feet and clamped her hand over his mouth as she rammed a dagger Rimeheart into his back. He flailed violently and moaned against her hand, and then she dropped him to the ground where he lay gasping.

One man turned to look in her direction. He frowned and started to walk over. Elsa stepped behind one of the horses, which turned a dull gaze on her for a moment before turning back to chew at the scrubby plant growth. The man cried out in surprise when he saw his fallen comrade and dashed the rest of the distance. Elsa flipped Rimeheart around and ducked out from behind the horse as he passed her, ramming the knife into his chest and sweeping a leg into his to topple him to the ground. She drew her knife back out and glanced towards the other three men.

They were gathered on the other side of the horses, speaking to each other and occasionally glancing over at the entrance to the temple. Maybe wondering why it was taking their comrades so long to capture the witch inside. Elsa started towards them in a low run, trying to keep behind the horses as much as she could. The men continued to speak to each other, oblivious of her approach.

When she came within ten feet of them the man facing mostly in her direction cried out in surprise, but it was too late. Elsa was upon the closest of them, stabbing him once in the back of the head and then in the back of the chest. She turned and threw her hand out at the next of them. A bolt of ice sprung from the aether and punched through his face. The last man drew his pistol to fire at her, but Elsa was within his guard and her knife flashed before he could shoot. He collapsed to the ground, grasping pitifully at his neck as it oozed blood onto the packed clay.

Elsa glanced back towards the temple and started when she saw a group walking out.

 _Alright, time to go,_ she thought, stumbling back over to a nearby horse. She stepped in front of it and caught its attention, placing a hand on the long of its nose for a moment before turning to swing into its saddle. It snorted, and then she kicked its flanks and it started to trot. She coaxed the beast into a full gallop, determined to put some time between herself and her enemies before they noticed that she'd escaped.

By instinct or by training, the horse immediately started to make for the nearest village, a little one along the Nile that she'd seen on the way here. Elsa leaned low in the saddle and rode hard.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 _But now, I think some of the pieces are starting to finally come together._

 _Elsa's diary_

* * *

London,

England

December 14th, 1843

Old Carver leaned lower against the stoop of the pediment, crossing his arms across his chest and scowling mightily. The new folks what had taken up on this block didn't get the scowl right, not yet. It was his only advantage, of course; they were younger than him, and better looking, and if Carver had an extra sixpence lying around, he'd be more likely to give it to one of them than the grumpy old man slouched against the old tannery.

But when the paddies came, the young beggars what couldn't scowl properly would get hauled off, and then Carver would be left alone again, to peace and quiet. One had to look a certain sort of dangerous to let the constables know one could defend oneself.

He adjusted one of his many blankets and coats, working his hand inwards to scratch a right unseemly itch. If it was an art to keep one's self warm on the streets of London in the wintertime, then Carver was right up there with one of them Italian blokes with the fancy name, like Leonidas. He was rather comfortable, actually, so it took some effort to keep the scowl on his face. It wouldn't do to drift off into a blissful slumber and wake up to gang of angry micks dragging him off to the lockup. The kind of Irish diplomacy they liked to use didn't agree with Old Carver's joints.

He heard footsteps, and he turned to see another man shuffling aimlessly along the street. The fellow meandered about for a bit, looking like he was trying to find a place to sit down not too close to the other beggars, and eventually slumped down ten feet or so away from Carver. He could tell that the bloke was new, because he wasn't dressed heavily enough for the weather. He had a coat on, sure, but that wasn't enough to get you through the nights outside. Carver wondered if he could defend himself if the bloke tried to take some of his blankets. That would be very ungentlemanly of him.

But no, the fellow just got out a little paring knife and a bit of wood and started chipping away at it. He quickly seemed to become engrossed in his task, and Carver sighed to himself, leaning back against the wall and letting his eyes droop closed. Maybe if he just dozed off for a minute or two –

"Look alive, mate," a low voice growled.

Carver opened his eyes again, and to his surprise he saw a pair of constables round the corner from Victoria street – a name that Carver had given to the street on account of the queenly sort of women that worked there – onto his own. He quickly resumed his scowl, and watched as the paddies strolled by, occasionally stopping to give one of the nicer-looking beggars some trouble, threatening to lock them up unless they beat it. Beat it to where? They didn't have jobs, or homes. Carver thought that the paddies really didn't understand the way things worked in this city. One of them spared him a glance, and he gaze them his best scowl, a really deranged kind what didn't reflect well upon his sanity and his reluctance to get stabby.

They moved on, turning down Shit-in-the-Gutters street, also named for what sort of thing happened there.

Carver turned to glance over again at the whittling newcomer. He frowned.

"Thanks," he grumbled. Carver didn't like having to owe thanks to anyone, but he knew well the codes of honor, and he respected them the same as any other self-respecting ne'er-do-well.

The man didn't reply. He might have nodded imperceptibly.

Carver found that, despite himself, he was intrigued by this mysterious fellow. He scooted a few feet through the slush closer. The man didn't seem to care.

"Who are you, stranger?" Carver asked. "I know most all the folks who end up in this part of town, but I've never seen you before."

He turned to look at Carver for the first time, and Carver saw that the man was far younger than he'd assumed. He had red hair, with a beard, and a collection of little scars, here and there, on his face. Had he been a soldier?

"That's on account of me being new here," the man said. His accent was Cockney, similar to Carver's but different enough to indicate that he came from the other side of the river. There were a few good slums over thataways, Carver had heard. "But don't worry, mate, I don't plan on staying long."

Carver crossed his arms again and waited for the bloke to enlighten him on his motives.

"I need to know if some fellows from out of town have shown up here, recently," the young man said. "They'd be dangerous types, and probably quite a few of them. They'd be looking for a place to hole up."

Carver's frown deepened. That was an interesting question. Indeed there _had_ been a group that moved into the area what fit the bloke's description, but Carver wasn't sure why he wanted to know. Was this bloke one of them, sent around to try to squash rumors floating around about them? Or maybe a member of a rival gang? Carver hadn't gotten old by getting himself into gang disagreements.

The young bloke seemed to sense Carver's hesitance. "I'm not going to bring you trouble, mate," he said. "Just a friend, looking for some information."

The bloke had helped him. Carver decided that he believed him. "There were," he said, "some folks what fit the description of what you're looking for. They came through and killed some of the younger beggars, the ones that looked like they might try to snitch. Then they set up on Victoria street."

He indicated towards it, for the bloke might not be familiar with the colloquial street names around these parts.

"Flushed out one of the boudoirs, I think. There were a lot of queens drifting past over the past few days."

The young man nodded. "Thanks, mate," he said, and he flipped his little woodcarving to Carver, who caught it. "That's all I needed."

Abruptly, the young man stood up and started off down the street again, whistling brightly to himself. Carver couldn't help but feel that he'd been played, somehow. He glanced down at the little wooden block the man had tossed him. It turned out, he'd been carving letters into it. Carver could read, a skill not possessed by many of the other beggars. He squinted and sounded the words aloud to himself.

 _Welcome to the Unified Empire._

xxx

Anna tried not to start when Hans landed beside her with a flutter of his coat. She stood atop the dingy building where Kariena and Hans had placed the portal, hands jammed into the pockets of a thick peacoat.

"You know, a normal person might have asked to meet _inside_ the building," Anna said, glancing back at the disturbed snow from the building he'd jumped off of to end up beside her.

"A normal person would have missed a perfectly good opportunity for a dramatic entrance, your majesty," Hans said drily. "Besides, there's a magical view up here."

He turned to look at the Thames, soot-stained and glutted by noisy barges towing tons of industrial goods. More than Olympia, more than Arendelle and New York City, London was crowded, and dirty. The high-minded liked to call London the 'industrialized marvel of the world,' but Hans had trouble seeing the beauty underneath the ash. Beggars lived in little makeshift campsites along the edges of the river where the city failed, pitiful little tents and trails of smoke curling upwards into the grey overhanging the skyline.

"Am I late?" Kariena said as she landed beside them. She too had jumped off of a nearby building. She stood from her crouch and walked over to them.

"I swear, you're both insane," Anna grumbled to herself, but she knew that she was really just trying to cover up her nervousness. "Anyway. How'd it go?"

"Good news, your majesty," Kariena said, stepping up beside them. She wiggled her fingers in their mittens and stared out to the horizon, the rising sun glinting orange in her eyes. "Sir Robert Peel is far less skilled at hiding than some of the friends that I used to have. I did some prodding around, and I think that I know where to find him."

Of course, they weren't planning on showing up anywhere uninvited. They'd come to the conclusion that they were far more likely to get somewhere legitimately than with cloak and dagger, but it was still nice to be able to keep tabs on where the prime minister was hiding. For one thing, it would help them keep him alive.

"Good," Anna said. "And you, Hans?"

"I've uncovered one cell of Everdark's agents," he replied. "I'm not satisfied that it's the Cult's only presence in the city, but it should be a start, at least."

"Where is it?" Anna asked.

"Lower East," he said, "in a whorehouse, probably because the constables there are used to leaving the red light district alone. I don't know about the numbers, but it was enough that people started noticing."

"Well, that's a good start," Anna mused. "We can at least start keeping an eye on them. Now let's get going. I'm sick of standing here in the snow."

xxx

The Palace of Westminster was massively large, and spiderwebbed on the outside by wooden latticework. Teams of workers milled about on them, doing construction on the façade of the building. Hans turned his head in either direction as they approached, impressed by how far he had to look in either direction to see the edges of the palace.

"There was a great fire in the 1830s that destroyed a lot of the palace," Anna was explaining to them. "They started reconstruction in the year after Elsa got coronated. I think that they're mostly just retouching the façade by this point."

Hans and Kariena had changed into clothes more suitable for a place like this, but Anna was already dressed like royalty. Sorise had insisted that Anna upgrade her wardrobe from the younger, more girlish clothing that she'd worn when she'd only been a princess.

Hans cast a sidelong glance at the redcoats as they approached the entrance. Unsurprisingly, the soldiers noticed them and started over.

"Name your business, sir," the men said, addressing Hans although he stood behind Anna. He saw her stiffen, if only slightly.

"Please, address my lady the empress, sir," Hans said, nodding slightly towards Anna.

Anna had eventually made the call to unashamedly request an audience as the empress of the new Unified Empire. Doing anything else, she'd said, would seem disingenuous. Besides, if she was going to end up asking England to join anyway, she'd might as well start by setting the proper terms of engagement.

The soldier who'd spoken turned towards Anna and seemed to notice for the first time the simple band of gold that she wore on her forehead. It was a very simple crown, the kind that implied its wearer had no need to make an overt show of her own power.

"Excuse me, your majesty," he said, inclining his head and motioning for the other redcoats to do the same. "I was not told to expect a foreign dignitary."

"Yes, I'm afraid to say that I've arrived unannounced," Anna said, smiling sympathetically at the man. "You are addressing empress Anna Siguror of the Unified Empire. I request an audience with your prime minister."

The confusion on the man's face increased. "The Unified Empire, your majesty?"

"Yes, we're rather new," Anna said, smiling wryly. "I expect that you will be required to inform me that as I do not have an appointment, you will be unable to see me in to see him. I also expect that you will be too kind to say that you've never heard of the Unified Empire anyhow, and because of that you don't trust that I am a legitimate ruler in the first place."

"Actually, that's not it at all, your majesty," the man said. "Um… perhaps you'd better follow me."

He turned and waved for them to follow, and started back towards the palace doors. Hans turned to Kariena, who shrugged and followed behind Anna after them.

xxx

"Sir Alexander de Kere, this is empress Anna Siguror of the Unified Empire," the stiff clerk said in a reedy voice, standing before an impressive oaken desk, behind which sat a decidedly unimpressive man. De Kere was sallow, and old, with sunken eyes and wispy grey hair.

"Charmed," he replied, inclining his head slightly rather than standing and bowing. "She is accompanied by two others, I notice," he said, turning a cold, emotionless gaze on Hans and Kariena.

The man reminded Hans of the type his father was friends with. Hans never liked them.

"Yes, Sir Kere," Anna said. Hans noticed that she spoke differently amongst dignitaries than she did in the company of friends. Her voice was slightly loftier, more accented in a traditional, Arendane way. Some of the consonants were clipped. "Both are trusted friends and advisors."

She did not wait before continuing. "I requested an audience with the minister, and yet I have been shown to you instead."

Hans raised an eyebrow. Her voice didn't sound confrontational, but her choice of words certainly did.

"Please enlighten me of your role in the government, Sir Kere."

De Kere considered her for a few moments with a shrewdness that reminded Hans of a rodent. "Perhaps you should take a seat, your majesty."

Anna accepted his offer, though Kariena and Hans remained standing, flanking the sides of her chair from behind, rather than taking any of the several other seats before his desk. The better to spring to action if violence should break out, somehow.

"Now, to your question," the man said, an almost imperceptible note of distaste in his voice. "Until recently, I was only a personal advisor to the minister. Not unlike your… friends," he said, waving a hand towards Kariena and Hans, "I suspect. But recently, as I'm sure that you're well aware, new threats have arisen to concern the sanctity of her majesty's kingdom, and consequently I was made a… gatekeeper, of sorts, for those who wish to speak to the minister directly."

"You're meant to be a patsy to die in the place of Sir Robert Peel if Everdark's forces assault the palace?" Anna asked.

Hans raised his other eyebrow.

De Kere, surprisingly, just nodded. "That's the gist of it, yes."

"Well in that case, Sir Kere, the only use that I have for you is your ability to connect me to the minister."

De Kere gave her a sour look. "The minister suspected that you would soon arrive making these demands," he said. "It's why you were let in in the first place."

"And the minister, in his wisdom, has agreed to meet and discuss the terms of England's entrance to the compact?" Anna said hopefully.

De Kere had humor enough to smile. "The minister has agreed that a meeting is of mutual interest to our nations, though he expresses his regret that you were unable to arrive before the forces of our enemy. They have already begun to establish a foothold in this city."

"My agents have been keeping an eye on these developments, Sir Kere," Anna said. "We are aware of your predicament, and we hope that this will lead our nations to a quick agreement."

"Very good," de Kere said. He took a piece of unmarked parchment and quickly scribbled an address on it before folding it inside another piece of paper and placing them both into an envelope. He sealed it and passed it across the table. "Enclosed is the address where the minister is staying. I suggest that you go to see him sooner, rather than later. You will be expected, your majesty."

Anna nodded, and handed the envelope to Hans, who stowed it into the breast pocket of his shirt.

De Kere followed this, and his eyes settled on Hans for a few moments before he finally decided to speak his mind. "Is it true, what they say about you, young man? Did you come back from the dead?"  
Hans was taken aback. He hadn't known that the legend of Hans Westergaard was beginning to spread.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, sir, they are."

"My God," De Kere said softly. He turned back to Anna. "May God help us all, your majesty."

Anna inclined her head to him and stood. "Don't die for something stupid, Sir Kere," she said. "If they come for you, run. Everdark probably already knows where your minister is."

De Kere blanched and nodded.

xxx

An hour later, the trio sat at a small table in the back of a restaurant not far from the upscale neighborhood where the minister was sequestered.

"I was right," Kariena said, looking at the contents of the letter and then passing it to Anna. "Which is bad, of course. That means Everdark's people know where he is for certain."

"From what we know, they haven't made a move on the minister yet," Hans said. "Which might mean that they want to try to pull off a double assassination of the queen and the minister at the same time, or maybe they have another plan entirely for upending the government."

"Speaking of, what about the queen?" Kariena asked.

Hans shrugged. "I don't believe that she's hiding, at the very least."

"It would be a devastating moral blow to England if Queen Victoria was assassinated, but I don't think that they would want to do it, at least not without knocking out the Parliament as well," Anna said. "The government can still function without her, and it might crystallize the nation into decisive action, if they're mourning the loss of their queen."

"But surely the minister alone won't be able to enter England into the empire," Kariena said. "Right?"

"Right," Anna replied. "They'll need to make a decision in Parliament as well, and the queen will eventually need to get onboard. This isn't going to be a fast process, which is why I wanted us to start here. Countries with representative institutions are going to take a lot longer to bring in."

Kariena sat back in her seat and sighed. "Too bad the bad guys aren't gonna wait for all the old men to stop deliberating."

"Speaking of the bad guys," Hans said, "I'm starting to worry that –"

He was cut off by a deafening explosion from somewhere outside the building. Inside, people fell out of their chairs; fine glasses hit the floor and shattered. People were screaming. Hans and Kariena met each other's eyes and sprinted for the door.


	6. Chapter Five

Author's Note:

Many apologies for being so late with this upload, dear reader! This last week has been crazy for me, but it's all sorted out now. We'll be back on regular upload schedule next Monday. Thanks for sticking with us :)

xxx

Chapter Five

 _I wish that I could speak to Ashanerat. I wish these visions were more than shadows of the past._

 _Elsa's diary_

* * *

The Valley of the Kings

Egypt,

December 15th, 1843

Elsa spread the weathered map out onto the table and used nails to pin down the corners. Bright sunlight glinted through the adobe window, casting half of the illustrated monuments into sharp relief. In the streets outside, there was the sound of a great many hooves as a herd of livestock was shepherded by. It was midmorning.

 _What are you looking for, Everdark?_ Elsa mused to herself, tracing her finger along the lines of one of the great pyramids. She hadn't been able to come up with an answer for this question based on the scribbled notations in the margins. They were decidedly unhelpful, mostly describing the dimensions of structures, and information about certain passageways within them. Whoever had made the notations clearly knew what they were after, but they left few clues about what that might be to someone else.

Of course, Elsa had a few guesses about what it might be. Some sort of magical artifact seemed likely. Perhaps something like Ceristo Siguror's locket, although it would probably have to do something more useful than offer glimpses into a past that Everdark had already experienced to be of any use to the God of Darkness. Perhaps the item was a ritual component. Their experience with wargates had taught them that, although Everdark had a vast knowledge of ancient magics, it did not possess some of the tools that had once been used to perform these rituals. The Cult of Entropy was required to find substitutes, often costly ones, such as the use of a wizard's soul to bind two portals together.

Of course, it was possible that they were after something else entirely.

A knock at the door separated Elsa from her thoughts. She was in a small bedroom for patients of the village healer, who she'd immediately sought out after arriving late last night. The healer was an elderly woman with a great knowledge of herbs and traditional medicines, and she'd done her best to patch up Elsa's wounds. It was sufficient, at least until Elsa could get Odette to really fix her up.

Elsa glanced back at the map on the room's desk. Should she try to hide it? The whiteness of her skin and the nature of her wounds had already done a good job of making her stand out to the healer, so perhaps the damage was already done. If the healer had brought the Cult of Entropy with her, she probably wouldn't have knocked.

"Come in, _"_ she said, hoping that the woman understood the general meaning. Not for the first time, Elsa wished that she'd taken the time to learn a few simple phrases in Arabic before she left for Egypt, but she had no knack for languages. Not like Odette.

The elderly woman stepped into the room, accompanied by a younger man who wore western clothes. The healer set a tray of simple grain cakes on the bedside table, glancing over at the map on the desk and frowning. She then walked over to the window and began to water a hanging planter box on the exterior. The young man, on the other hand, sat on the edge of the bed and studied Elsa with a fascinated expression.

The woman said something in Arabic, and the young man repeated her in British-accented English. "I am Aharon, the grandson of Chione. She has asked me to translate for her. You speak English, yes?"

Elsa nodded. "Yes."

"Excellent," Aharon said. "She would like to ask you some questions."

Elsa glanced between them, grandson and grandmother. "Alright," she said.

Aharon nodded to his grandmother, and she began to speak. He repeated her.

"Very few of my patients pay me in advance. It is considered wiser to wait until one recovers, and then tender payment based on the sufficiency of my treatment of your wounds."

Elsa shrugged. "I am not familiar with your customs."

"You are in a hurry," the woman said.

"Yes," Elsa replied, nodding, first to Aharon, and then to Chione.

"You have brought danger here," the woman said.

"No," Elsa replied, shaking her head. How to explain that the threat posed by Everdark would exist without her? "There are bad men in the valley. They are looking for something, and they would be looking for it whether or not I am here."

Aharon cocked his head interestedly as he repeated her words to Chione. The healer's frown deepened as she regarded Elsa. Elsa gathered the meaning of her next words even without the translation.

"What are they looking for?"

Elsa thought for a moment, and then decided to tell the truth. "I do not know."

Aharon frowned too, now, but he repeated this to his grandmother.

"What do you mean, you do not know? If you do not know what they seek, how can you say that they are bad men?"

"They serve a mighty warlord," Elsa said. "This warlord has brought destruction to my own land. Many were killed. Now the warlord seeks other lands to conquer. In the north, we are forming an alliance of nations, to be unified in our opposition. We take an interest in the defense of all peoples, then, because we expect that one day we might need their help in this fight. We think that the warlord's forces are searching for a… weapon, of sorts, in the Valley of the Kings. But we do not know exactly what."

Leveling with them was a gut move, the kind of thing Hans would have done. Elsa wasn't sure whether that was a good thing. It took some time for Aharon to translate her words to his grandmother. Afterwards, she looked at Elsa for a long time, an indiscernible expression on her face.

When she finally spoke again, she sounded hesitant.

"I believe your words. For a long time now, it has seemed that something was beginning to grow dark and dangerous here. But still, I must ask that you leave. While you are here, they may come to find you. Perhaps if you are gone, then your enemies will leave us be."

Elsa slowly nodded. She couldn't protect an entire village, even if she'd wanted to. "Very well. Thank you for your hospitality, and for your care. Please get as far from this place as you can, and bring as many people with you as possible. I fear that my enemy will not care that your village has nothing to offer them. If all it wants is destruction, then you cannot deny them that."

Aharon and his grandmother nodded soberly, and Elsa began to gather her things to leave. She wasn't going to go back to the valley – at least not immediately. The wargate was nearby, and Elsa had grown quite certain that whatever lay ahead, she was going to want Odette's help.

xxx

Novendon sat at the head of a magnificent table set for a feast, in the bellows of a magnificent hall, in a magnificent palace in the Sea of Stars. The room was dense with people, both the favored ones, who sat at the table and partook in the revelry, and the slaves, who bustled about behind them, carrying gigantic platters laden with exquisite foodstuffs. The heady fragrance of exotic and finely crafted dishes perfumed the air, and polite chatter cloyed at the wizard's ears.

But Novendon was not smiling, or eating, or drinking, or chatting. He was nervous. The master expected an update on their progress in Egypt by the end of the night, and Novendon still hadn't heard any good news about it. Novendon wasn't inherently afraid of the master, not like most of its underlings. Novendon enjoyed a special relationship with the master, cultivated from years of delivering unparalleled successes.

However, since his failure to kill the Protector two months ago, he had not been very successful. As the God of Darkness's second-in-command, it was the venerable wizard's responsibility to oversee the progress of the invasion and make the final commands. When a city, such as Beijing, fell with little resistance, Novendon basked in the glow of his master's pleasure. On the other hand, when Elsa Siguror showed up in the Valley of the Kings and obliterated one of the excavation camps, Novendon cowered before the Dark God's anger.

Before the incident in Nahat'Tiemn, the endless tower in the City of Brass, Novendon would have dispatched a strike team of wizard assassins to Egypt to be done with her. After witnessing firsthand Elsa's unparalleled abilities, he was no longer sure that this was the correct strategy. What was he supposed to do about an enemy that simply refused to be defeated?

"Master wizard. There is a request for your presence in the East Gallery," a servant's voice spoke in an undertone beside Novendon's ear. "They bid you to come unattended."

Novendon turned and smiled thinly at the servant and nodded, removing his napkin from his lap and folding it neatly beside his untouched cutlery. "Very well, then. I'll go immediately."

Despite the servant's attempt to be discreet, dozens of eyes followed Novendon as he stood and extricated himself from the room. The people in this room were the chosen of the God of Darkness; as such, they were perceptive, and crafty. They'd noticed the tension in Novendon's body, and they'd already have deduced the reason. Trouble with the invasion. Many of the people in this room were far removed from the front lines, having remained in the Sea of Stars ever since it had been conquered. They'd wonder aloud whether the master couldn't be having an easier time of it conquering Earth if it relied on another wizard than Novendon. Some would even begin to speculate on whether the prize of the Earth was worth the effort.

Novendon couldn't disagree with them more. The Sea of Stars was the homeland of the Lost Immortals, and as such it was unholy ground. The Lost Immortals, numbering twelve, who had unanimously tried to kill the God of Darkness, before even the Elder Days. Novendon couldn't fathom why the master seemed to be content with using the Sea as a seat of power. Novendon's skin crawled in this place.

He stepped into the East Gallery, which had been cleared out to prepare for his arrival. The walls were adorned with beautiful works of art, each the magnum opus of a special caste of artist called a Sova. A Sova spent their entire life working to perfect their craft, whether it be painting, sculpture, music, or writing. Each year they presented a tribute to their lord, in the form of a piece of art. If the lord deemed them proficient, the Sova would then craft a final piece of art, one last expression of their prodigious talent. Once it was complete, the Sova killed themselves.

Novendon's eyes strayed towards a familiar little pedestal, near the far end of the room, upon which sat a single sheet of paper. Most of the Sova who wrote would compose epics of prose or poetry, often thousands of pages long and grandiose in scale. This particular masterpiece however, was merely a single sentence, written in neat handwriting on an otherwise ordinary piece of paper. Novendon had never been sure what to make of the little poem. It said: "Close tear hearts mend heart tears close."

"Master wizard," a man said, standing and bowing. He was tall and crisp, a military man. The type who'd normally rather salute, than bow. So Novendon made him uncomfortable.

"You may speak," Novendon said, voice deep and imperious, waving a dismissive hand towards the doors, which swung shut with a thud.

"We have been able to verify that the witch Elsa Siguror managed to steal a map detailing our excavation of the monuments in the valley," he said. "The map bore notations regarding the dimensions of buildings and descriptions of passageways that we've explored, but we do not believe that there was any information on it that would have indicated to her what our ultimate goal is."

Novendon frowned. "You have spoken personally to the men who wrote on it?"

The soldier squirmed, uncomfortable. "No, master wizard."

Novendon raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"They're… they're all dead, master wizard," the man said softly.

Novendon continued to gaze upon the man evenly, although internally this bothered him.

"How many did she kill?" He asked.

"Less than fifty, master wizard. We'll have the exact count soon."

Novendon's jaw grew tighter. "Did she take anything else?"

"Not that we know of, master wizard."

"Good." Novendon clasped his hands behind his back and turned to the wall, focusing on one of the paintings rather than letting himself pace with frustration. "Did you pursue her?"

"We sent a force after right after she entered the camp, master wizard. She fled into one of the temples and managed to slip by us during the confusion. She's gone now, but she can't have gone too far. We know the surrounding area well, and we can –"

"That will do, soldier," Novendon interrupted. "I will confer with the master and ask for its guidance. I will relay its orders to you, and you will do as you are told. Do you understand?"

The soldier nodded. "Yes, master wizard."

"Very well. You are dismissed." Novendon waved a hand, and the doors clicked open again. The soldier bowed once more and made a hasty exit.

Novendon sighed and ran an age-worn hand over his face. He turned to leave as well, planning on going to palace's Dark Chamber to speak to the master, but before took a step the doors swung closed again and all the room's lanterns went out. There was a rush of heat, and then the chamber grew very cold. Novendon suppressed a shiver.

All at once, a shifting shadow emerged from the room's darkest corner, and a deep hum coalesced into words.

"I want an update, Novendon," Everdark's voice rumbled. "What did the Protector take from me? What does she know?"

"Very little, master," Novendon said, averting his gaze from the shadow but feeling cowardly for doing so. "She managed only to steal a map of the valley with notations regarding passageways that we've excavated. Nothing regarding our plans."

Everdark rumbled introspectively for a few moments. "It is immaterial whether the Protector has managed to discern our motives, so long as she is able to be a disruption."

"What should we do, master?" Novendon asked. "We have tried before to stop her with force, and we have always failed."

"She is not a god," Everdark said, though for several moments afterward, it did not speak.

"Master?"

"Take Dovignon and Arethius with you," Everdark said, referring to the two wizards that had actually bested Elsa in New York City last July. "Go yourself, and oversee the completion of my return. Begin slaughtering the people of the nearby villages," Everdark said. "Take hostages as well. Children, and young women. Take them to the temple with you, and begin the ritual. She will come for you, but between the hostages and the threat that our wizards pose to her, she will not be able to stop the ritual."

Novendon nodded. "It will be done, master."

There was a rush of heat and light as the God of Darkness left the chamber.

xxx

Elsa leaned over the edge of the bathtub, wringing water out of her hair before she wrapped a white towel around her head.

"Boy, you don't realize how much sand really just gets _everywhere,_ " Elsa said, grimacing at the little particles of grit that had gathered at the bottom of the spent bathwater.

Odette wasn't as bothered by the sand in the bathwater as she was by the soft crimson taint left by washed-away blood. She bit her lower lip as she stared at the purplish-red ring on the left side of Elsa's back, by the abdomen, where she'd been shot. Odette had already done her best to mend it, reknitting the tissues inside that had been damaged, and getting the bullet out. But bruises were harder to get rid of, and Elsa would have a nasty one for some time.

Elsa turned back to face Odette, and she took the chance to check up on the long gash that had been on Elsa's front, too. It had been very long, but not deep, running from the other side of her stomach all the way across her chest, reaching to the other shoulder. She'd probably end up with a scar.

Elsa padded across the washroom to where Odette leaned against the wall and cupped her hands underneath Odette's chin, tilting it up and kissing her softly.

"Thanks, Odette. I know that you're worried, but I'm going to be just fine."

Odette deflected. "Oh, no, I'm just sad that if that scars, you're not gonna have perfect breasts anymore."

Elsa laughed, then picked her clothes off the stand and started to dress. "I'm not sure that I ever did have them, Odette."

Odette walked over and wrapped her arms around Elsa from behind, resting her head on the former queen's shoulder, smelling her wet hair. "No, small and perky is perfect to me."

Elsa laughed again and then twirled the brilliant white ring on Odette's finger.

"I don't think we're going to get our wedding any time soon," Elsa said wistfully.

"No," Odette said, shutting her eyes. "No, I knew we wouldn't. But it's the thought that counts."

Elsa twisted around and pulled Odette into a tight embrace, and they stood like that for several long seconds, pushing into each other's warmth.

"Should we bring Ceristo's locket?" Elsa asked.

"Why?" Odette said, extricating herself from Elsa's arms. She tried not to let the edge of fear in her voice show too much, but she was still shaken from her experience with it last month. Even if she'd supposedly mended it, she didn't trust that Everdark wasn't able to watch them through it.

"I don't know," Elsa said, "I just thought that it might be useful to have a reference if we end up looking for another dark artifact. Have you been getting anywhere with the visions?"

"Not really," Odette said. "I'm still getting stuff from Ancient Greece. It's interesting, but it hasn't really been useful since that first revelation about the wargates. There's something specific to you about the visions with Ashanerat. And I'm not sure that it would really help us seek out other dark magic. Ever since I mended it, it doesn't seem to act the way it used to."

The amulet wasn't warm or cold to the touch anymore, and it didn't noticeably emit any sort of energy, like it had before.

"Alright, fair," Elsa said. "Let's leave it here. I suppose it would be asking for trouble to bring it with us."

Odette nodded, privately relieved.

"Now that they know you're on to them, they're going to start killing people," Odette said softly. "We have to be ready to stop them."

Elsa led the way out of the bathroom, thinking back to Aharon and his grandmother. "I warned them about the danger, in the last village I was in. I think that they took me seriously. I just hope that they have enough time to run."


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

 _In the beginning, there were thirteen Immortals. The combined efforts of them all were required to craft the earth from the Sea of Stars, and gift unto it its own realm. Back then, cooperation among the Immortals was common._

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _The 'Histories'_

* * *

London,

England,

December 14th, 1843

Hans dashed into the street, leaping onto the cobblestones and starting to force his way through the crowd of fleeing citizens. Shoulders and elbows battered his sides as he fought his way through the tide. The building on the other side of the avenue was burning through a sizeable hole in the upstairs, thick gouts of smoke pouring into the cloudy sky. For a moment, he couldn't find Kariena, and then she was beside him, shouting in his ear.

"I see our perp!" She shouted over the din, pointing down the street. Hans glanced after her and saw a man wearing all black hurrying away from the scene of the explosion. "I'll get him!"

Without another word, Kariena broke away and started to sprint after him, disappearing and reappearing in little arcane bursts to get around throngs of people. Hans turned his gaze back to the burning building and shoved his way through the last block of people, finally coming out into the empty space just before it. Although the flames were confined to the second floor for the moment, the heat was still intense, almost overpowering. A lone woman and man stood apart from the crowd, staring up towards the conflagration with panic-stricken faces. Hans turned towards them and shouted over the screaming.

"Is anyone still up there?"

"Yes, our son!" Screamed the woman, voice hysterical. "Will and I panicked when the explosion happened, and we just ran! Somehow, we both forgot –"

Without waiting for her to finish talking, Hans started running towards the building again. He didn't bother opening the door, and instead he phased through it, using his powers to make himself momentarily incorporeal. It still felt odd to him, phasing out for a moment – his body seemed to know that it wasn't supposed to be able to walk through walls, and yet it did anyway. He came into the downstairs of the building, which looked to be a high-end haberdashery. The woman outside and her husband were the owners, far poorer than their clientele, living in the apartments above the shop. They had no reason to be the target of Everdark's violence.

Hans tried not to dwell on that long as he ran for the staircase at the back of the showroom. He took them two at a time, and with each step the air became thicker and darker with smoke. He started to cough as he neared the landing, but he didn't slow down. He ran through the door at the top, which hung open, into a little kitchen. Only one hallway split off from it, but it was thick with smoke and crackling flames. Hans knelt to look under the kitchen table, but there was no one underneath it. The little boy was trapped beyond the fire.

 _Well, at least I can say that I never get bored at my job,_ Hans thought to himself as he started throwing open the cupboards in the kitchen, looking for a tablecloth. Finally, he found a big white one in a cabinet with a bunch of fine china that looked unused, and he yanked it out, spilling the glassware to shatter on the floor. Then he tucked it underneath his arm and ran for the wall, phasing through it rather than try his chances with the hallway.

He came into the master bedroom, which was already on fire. The smoke was even heavier, and black, in here, instead of gray. Part of the wall was gone, and Hans could see out it onto the street below. The next room over, then, was probably the one where the explosion had gone off. Hans turned and ran through the wall into the hallway, bursting through the flames into the room on the other side.

This was the kid's bedroom. A smaller bed lay against the other side of the wall, the fires creeping across the floor to reach it. Hans could just see a small boy huddled underneath it, shoulders wracking with coughs.

He charged across the room, leaping over the lip of the flames, and landed beside the bed. He knelt down, coughing into his fist, and shouted to the boy.

"You have to crawl out from underneath there, for me! Come on, I'm going to get you out of here!"

He extended a charred hand. A far smaller one quivered as it reached out and took his, and Hans helped to pull the boy out from underneath the bed. He then set the tablecloth on the ground and started to wrap it around the boy, first once, and then again. Then he lifted the boy up and set him on his shoulder. He would be breathing in the smoke, which meant that Hans was going to have to be fast.

Also, he'd tried to phase through a wall while holding Kariena before, to see if he could pass his powers to other people. She'd hit the wall and stayed there while he went through to the other side. Apparently, his magic didn't work that way. So he was going to have to do this the hard way.

Hans gritted his teeth and charged back through the room, roaring with pain as clothes ignited when he passed through the flame. He twisted the boy away from his body and rammed his shoulder into the door. It gave inwards, and he crashed into the blazing hallway in a shower of splinters. He stumbled, briefly, then regained his balance and ran faster than ever, holding the boy above the line of flames as he leapt through them back into the kitchen.

He kept running, back into the staircase, and then down, gasping with shock when they hit clear air. He kept running, back through the shop and then he rammed his shoulder into the door again, once, twice, three times and it burst outwards, and he collapsed onto the street with the young boy still in his arms.

The parents screamed and ran over, the mother quickly pulling the charred tablecloth from Hans's arms and unwrapping it. Her boy lay trembling in a heap on the cobblestones, his exposed skin pink with burn, but alive. She immediately started to weep and buried her head into the boy's shoulder. Her husband, Will, knelt beside Hans and helped beat the flames out of his trousers.

"Thank you," he said raggedly. "Thank you. I don't know how to –"

"We need to get away from here," Hans said, coughing forcefully. "Burning timbers are going to start falling into the street. We need to get away from here."

Will helped Hans to his feet, and they crossed to the other side of the street, where the crowd of people had stopped, transfixed by the sight of watching the building burn. Hans collapsed onto the curb and patted at himself, amazed to find that his flesh hadn't burned badly. He'd made it.

He started to look around for Kariena, when he heard a scream from the restaurant behind him.

xxx

A few minutes before, Anna knelt behind her table, knocked over onto its side and facing the doorway. She felt very useless, but not particularly frightened. Most of the other people here were scared that the explosion had been a terrorist's attack, and they huddled behind or underneath their tables, waiting for the constables to arrive. Of course, Anna knew that Kariena and Hans were some of the most effective and skilled fighters that she knew. They would be able to keep her from danger. Still, these were exactly the kind of things that made her wonder what right she really had to be empress. It had always felt like a platitude to her, when Elsa said that people with magic were more susceptible to Everdark's control, so it was best to have a nonmagical person lead the empire.

At the end of the day, they would need to fight and kill their enemies to succeed, and those were two things that Anna just couldn't do.

There was a loud bang as the doors to the restaurant were thrown open. Anna gasped and glanced around the edge of her table. Several men walked over the threshold, calm despite the chaos in the street beyond them. The man at the head of the others was old and gaunt, and he carried no weapon, but the others held rifles.

"The empress is in here somewhere, boys," the man said, glancing around with a disinterested look. "Find her."

They immediately began to fan out through the chamber. Anna gasped again and ducked behind the table, wincing and placing a hand over her stomach. It seemed that there was no time like the present to test her belief that Hans and Kariena would be able to beat all the bad guys.

Trying not to panic, Anna started to search her own purse for something that she could use as a weapon as the sound of the soldiers starting to search drifted over to her. Inexplicably, she remembered Odette mentioning that she'd used a heavy hairpin as a weapon before. Anna reached up and pulled out her own, looking down at it and wincing. It was only two inches long, and not particularly thick metal. Maybe she could jam it in to someone's eye.

"Excuse me, brigand! Unhand me!" A posh woman yelled from somewhere startlingly nearby.

Anna glanced around the edge of the table and saw a middle-aged woman struggling against the grip of one of the soldiers as he dragged her out from underneath one of the tables.

"Identify yourself!" He yelled at the terrified woman.

Anna realized that they weren't stealing from anyone. Some of the patrons of this restaurant wore a hundred pounds of jewelry or more, but Everdark's people didn't care. Something about that chilled Anna.

"I am Lady Etienne Malone! Please, I no nothing of the person you seek! Please, let me live!"

The man lost interest in her and moved on, leaving Lady Malone whimpering on the ground. The soldier glanced in Anna's direction, and she ducked behind the table again, heart pounding. Had he seen her? He couldn't possibly know what she looked like if he'd been accosting a forty-year old woman, right?

"Well, hello, beautiful," the man said, stepping around the side of her table and grinning.

Anna clutched the hairpin to her chest and backpedaled against the table, realizing that she had nowhere to go. Her mouth moved but no sound came out, too frightened even to scream.

"Now, don't you go on talking nonstop like that, or I won't be able to get a word in edgewise," the man said, chuckling. He had a thick Cockney accent. His gaze roamed around her greedily, but he came to a stop at her head. Anna reached up towards the thin metal circlet she wore, but it was too late.

"Wait a second," he said, his grin widening. He reached down to grab her. "You're the one we're looking for, aren't you?"

Acting on instinct, Anna leapt up towards him, the pin held straight out between two of her fingers. She rammed the palm of her right hand over the man's eye, and he howled, stumbling backwards and dropping his gun and clutching at his bleeding socket. Instantly, shouting erupted and the other men charged towards her.

Anna panicked, and started to reach for the rifle, wondering if she had the skill to shoot it, but at that moment, the doors opened again, and Hans stepped over the threshold, his clothes charred and ragged.

"Ah, so it was a diversion," Hans said, reaching for his pistols and removing them from their shoulder holsters. "I should have suspected. Clever, of course, but ultimately cleverness is no match for the sheer luck of being in the right place at the right time."

Anna peeked around the edge of the table again and saw that the four remaining men had stopped dead. They all looked towards Hans, and the three soldiers with guns had raised them to point at Hans. He looked calm and collected. Even casual, as he primed both of his pistols and raised them both to point at the older man who seemed to be leading them all. The man paled.

Anna was astounded. Why hadn't the soldiers shot Hans as soon as he crossed the threshold? Didn't they know how dangerous he was? It didn't occur to her, of course, that perhaps the reason they weren't shooting at him was precisely _because_ they feared the danger that he posed to them.

"Well, I suppose that we can do this the easy way, or the hard way," he said, voice oozing confidence. "I'm always looking forward to a workout, but of course you men would like to hold on to your lives."

They faltered. They faltered! Anna couldn't believe her eyes. Was he really going to intimidate them into submission through sheer force of will?

But Anna knew that although Hans had once possessed the ability to send bullet awry with magic, he didn't any more. This was an extraordinary gamble – if even one of the men just decided to shoot, it would kill him. And here he was, dancing on a very thin wire, counting on the possibility that these men had only heard rumor of what he could do.

The soldiers glanced towards their leader, but he only seemed to be able to stare at the guns pointed at him. Several seconds stretched past. It felt like an eternity. Then all at once, everything happened. Anna didn't see what set them all off, and she could barely keep track of what was going on once it started, but there was a flurry of gunshots in quick succession. Hans fell into a crouch and his pistols blazed as he fired rapidly, and the wood around him was splintering from bullets, and then Kariena appeared in a burst of light and rammed a knife into the neck of one of the soldiers, taking him down.

Anna clutched at her chest and stared. It had taken no time at all. Seconds, maybe, and they were all dead. Somehow, Hans had made it. He got back to his feet and rolled his shoulders, putting guns back into their holsters and nodding at Kariena.

"Thanks. That was a well-timed arrival."

"No shit," Kariena said, smirking. "He _had_ you! You were as good as gone!"

"Alright, alright," Hans said, placing his hands on his hips. "What happened with the masked fellow? You catch him?"

Kariena frowned. "Well, not exactly…"

"Ah, so it would appear that your chickens have come home to roost," Hans said, walking over and righting one of the tables and a few chairs, then sitting down at it.

"I've _never_ lost someone in New York," Kariena said glumly, stomping over at sitting at the table as well. Anna noticed that there were blood spatters on her face and neck. It wasn't her own blood. "I just don't know this city well enough. I had him until we hit a poorer part of town, with a bunch of alleyways and bolt-holes. Then I figured I'd better come back, to see if you needed any help. Turns out, it was lucky that I did."

Anna slowly crept out from behind the table and walked over, still amazed that their enemies had been dealt with so quickly. The kind of power that these people wielded so casually…

"Ah. Empress. Good to see you alive and well," Hans said, motioning towards one of the seats at the table. She sat, shaken. Hans looked at her for a moment, and his brow furrowed, his voice becoming more serious. "You _are_ well, empress?"

Anna slowly nodded. "Just a little shaken. I haven't had to fight for my life, well… ever, before."

Kariena smiled sympathetically and placed a hand over Anna's. "It probably won't make you feel any better if I tell you that it gets easier, but it does."

Hans was rubbing at his beard. "So are we content that the point of all this was to make a diversion to distract me and you while they try to capture the empress?"

Kariena shook her head. "I figured that they did it to send a message. About how vulnerable the minister is. Maybe they decided to gamble on trying to capture Anna at the same time, but at best it was a side venture. I just think they were trying to spread a little panic."

Hans nodded. "Okay, I'm willing to agree to that."

"So what now?" Anna asked.

"We should go to the minister's house," Hans said. "I'd like to make sure that there hasn't been a similar attack there."

Kariena nodded and bounded back to her feet. "Do you want to stay with us, Anna? It's probably going to be a long, dangerous day. If you like, I could escort you somewhere safer."

Anna tried not to feel affronted by the question. Of course that was the right thing to ask her. Hell, she really _didn't_ want to be part of a warzone, but the question still stung. It sounded as if Kariena expected her to be cowardly.

"No," Anna said. "No, I'm the leader of our empire, and it's important that I meet with the minister myself."

Kariena smiled. "Sounds good. Let's get moving."


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

 _I think that back then, the being we now know as Everdark was something different. A deity devoted to the natural cycle of decay, perhaps. I assume this because it is easier to envision a corrupted entity turning against the other Immortals, than grapple with a reality where the others were foolish enough to entrust a being of such darkness with power._

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _The 'Histories'_

* * *

The Nile Delta,

Egypt

December 15th, 1843

The air burned with acrid smoke and stinging sand. Elsa kicked at a piece of blackened rubble as she and Odette wandered through the ruined village, taking in the destruction around them. Charred skeletons littered the ground in huddled places, gathered together in heaps where families cowered while they awaited their demise. Elsa turned back to Odette, who had stopped, and was staring at a mass of withered flesh that was about the size of a child.

No ordinary fire could have consumed so many, so quickly. It was clear that this atrocity had been committed by a wizard.

Odette turned a hauntingly emotionless gaze up towards Elsa. "This is punishment," she said. "For stealing the map."

Elsa shut her eyes and slowly nodded.

This was the small village that she'd placed the wargate in. The portal itself was undamaged, still nestled away in the back of a little store, among the rest of the storage. It seemed that Everdark's people hadn't been searching for the portal; the crates of textiles and papyrus in the storage room hadn't even been disturbed. They'd just come to slaughter.

"We need to go," Elsa said. "We need to find them and put an end to this."

Odette turned and started to follow after Elsa towards the edge of the village. "I only saw one body the right size to be a child's," she said. "I think that they took the rest of them."

Elsa extended a hand, and a thin sheet of ice appeared before her feet. It rapidly extended outwards towards the horizon. She held out her other hand for Odette, who took it. They both stepped onto the pathway, and Elsa started to run.

xxx

Two hours later, they'd reached the valley, passing several more of the burned-out villages along the way. In each, the destruction was identical. Nothing had been pillaged, and there were no survivors. Odette still wasn't used to the way that Elsa could travel, sprinting for a minute to pick up speed, and then kneeling on the ice track and sliding for miles and miles at startling speeds, so by the time they finally came to a stop, she was grateful to roll onto solid ground and force away the nausea. Elsa crept to the crest of the nearest sand dune and laid down, keeping a low profile as she peered into the valley. She reached up to shield her eyes against the brilliant sun.

"Just enough time passes between each time I do that for me to forget how truly awful it is," Odette said, rolling over and pushing herself back to her feet.

Elsa glanced back and smiled slightly. "I would say that you'll get used to it, but it might be one of those things that other people never get the hang of."

"Yeah, like being perfectly comfortable thirty below freezing with no coat on? Maybe," Odette said, joining Elsa in a crouch at the top of the hill and following her gaze.

What had been an open site just days before had consolidated around one monument. A sea of tents lay before one of the steppe temples, bustling with activity apparent even from this distance. Though there were many tents, the camp still appeared to be overpopulated. The artificial streets between the tents were crowded with a crush of slight forms. After a moment, Elsa realized that it must be the children, and some of the women from the razed villages.

"Well, I suppose we know that they expect an attack," Odette said.

Elsa glanced at her.

"Because there's no other reason to take hostages and bring them out here. They're just going to get in the way of the excavation, and Everdark's people are going to have to devote time and resources to managing them. So they expect us to attack soon, and they're going to use the hostages as leverage."

Elsa bit her lower lip. "Well, I'm not sure that changes anything. We don't really have a choice but to try to save these people."

"I hate feeling like we've been outplayed," Odette said bleakly.

Elsa did, too. It seemed that, even as they grew more skilled at using their powers, they got no closer to being able to outwit the God of Darkness and its minions. Somehow, at the end of every confrontation, it was always Elsa and her friends who ended up having to use the 'blow stuff up' approach. The way things were shaping up here seemed to be no different.

"I wonder what they're looking for," Odette mused softly.

"Whatever it is, that's the oldest monument in the valley," Elsa said. "You can sort of tell, with all the weathering. It's almost faded into the plateau behind it. That temple is really, really ancient. I wouldn't be surprised if it dates back to the days of Celestus, or even before."

They fell silent for several moments, listening to the wind whistle through the valley.

"I think that it has something to do with Ashanerat," Elsa said abruptly.

Odette frowned. "What? I thought Celestus was in the Fertile Crescent somewhere."

How could Elsa explain this? That for some time, she'd started to harbor the suspicion that somehow, history was going to end up repeating itself? Was she just being crazy?

"Yes, but I don't know, I still think that it's going to have something to do with her, somehow. Maybe something that used to be hers, I don't know."

Odette turned back to the valley, a frown etched into her forehead. Elsa knew that she didn't agree but was too nice to say so.

"I'm worried about snipers," Odette said, sweeping her gaze around. "Or scouts, or someone that might be watching for our approach. It doesn't make any sense to take all these preparations for when we arrive, and then not bother keeping track of when we do."

"Maybe they just figure that if it's a trap anyway, they needn't bother," Elsa said, but she knew that Odette was probably right. "But yeah, we should probably try to find some place that isn't so exposed."

They both slid their way back down the far side of the dune and started to make their way around the outer edge of the valley, a mile or so away from the enemy camp. The wind started to pick up, gritty and scouring, and the sun, far overhead, slowly turned blood red. They came to the temple that Elsa had fought Everdark's forces at the day before. The dead had been left behind on the stone approach, their bodies half-covered with sand and no longer leaking any blood. It was careless and unnerving.

xxx

Even from this distance, they could hear a commotion at the enemy camp. Men in dark clothing left the temple and started to corral the hostages. Partway through the gathering, two black forms exited the temple through the highest approach and flew down to the others. Elsa gasped.

"Those are the wizards that we fought in New York, last July!" Elsa said, not quite certain at first but growing in her conviction once she saw that they both carried long, polearm weapons.

"Oh. Yeah. The ones that kicked our asses," Odette said.

Elsa looked up. "Hey, slow down there. It wasn't _that_ one-sided."

Odette smirked. "Anyway. What's the plan?"

"I don't know," Elsa said, fighting back the urge to just rush down the hill and start throwing icicles at people. If there was ever a time to _not_ act like Hans would, this was it. "We weren't exactly able to defeat those wizards before when it was a fair fight, and this time they'll be sure to start killing children if we engage them."

Odette nodded. She'd been thinking much the same. "Well, maybe we should just stake it out for a bit and see what they're planning on doing."

Elsa nodded.

So they waited, watching Everdark's minions begin to shepherd the hostages into a long line, several children deep. Then they began to march them in to the temple, men armed with rifles walking along the sides of the line to keep order. A mile away, the plaintive cries of some of the youngest children carried to their ears. Elsa gritted her teeth and waited.

Finally, they had all gone into the temple. The pair of black-armored wizards were the last to leave, rising into the air and soaring about the valley for a few minutes. Searching. While they did this, Elsa and Odette retreated into the cavernous foyer of their temple, crouching behind one of the pillars to obscure themselves. There could be no doubt about it; the wizards were searching for them. Eventually satisfied that Elsa and Odette were nowhere to be seen, the pair of wizards returned to the temple and went inside, as well.

"What if they were going to perform a ritual that needed a lot of sacrifices?" Elsa asked, wondering if they'd made a horrible mistake.

"Then I doubt we would have been able to save them anyway," Odette said. "If we'd rushed them while they were in the valley, we wouldn't have been able to do a thing if the wizards just slaughtered all the kids. I think we just have to hope that they're planning on keeping the hostages alive, at least for now."

"Well," Elsa said, standing and brushing some of the loose dirt off of her clothes, "Now's our chance."

xxx

They jogged down the sloping sides of the valley, tracing their way back and forth along a deceptively steep switchback pathway that led up to the temple they'd left behind. Once they made it to level ground, Elsa skated them again, speeding them towards the final temple. This one was lower in the valley, and near to the center. Its age was obvious, apparent in the weathered stonework, fading away into the foundation stone behind it, and as they got close enough to make it out, in the ancient, crude ornamentations on the façade.

"Huh. That looks familiar," Odette said, tracing a finger along a weather-beaten carving of several men with vulture heads, disemboweling an unbeliever. "You know, in the visions that _I've_ been having from your ancestor's locket, there were Greeks who worshipped Everdark. I suppose it makes sense that there would be some Egyptians as well."

Elsa extended her hand to the side, and with an arcane swirl and a rush of cold, Rimeheart materialized. The glow it gave off extended about ten feet beyond them as they stepped beyond the maw of the temple, and Odette fell into step just behind Elsa, letting her lead the way.

The walls were far away, at first, but then they left the atrium and, much like before, entered a narrower corridor that would lead them into the heart of the temple. This one seemed to slope downwards, however, so they descended as well. Along their sides, the walls were covered with cracked and faded murals depicting great violence in the bizarre anti-perspective form of the Egyptians. A man's innards were taken out and eaten by three great snakes. Another was made to watch his wife and children drowned in the Nile, and then fed to crocodiles. Yet another was torn in half and sewn back together with the body of a horse.

"Rather gruesome people, weren't they," Elsa whispered, an involuntary shiver running down her spine.

"This is… this is different than the Egyptian art that I've seen," Odette said. "There's a common belief in Western cultures that the Egyptians were obsessed with death, to the point where someone might expect to see murals like these on the walls of an Egyptian temple. But a lot of the scholars think that's rubbish. They say that what the Egyptians were really preoccupied with was the _soul,_ and how it could be redeemed from an imperfect human form. So really, a lot of Egyptian artists were just trying to anticipate the trials that their spirit might have to undergo in order to be deemed worthy for the afterlife. This… this is just torture, and cruelty."

They had gone maybe one hundred feet now and had descended about a story. They came into another wide, open chamber, this one also deserted. Rimeheart's glow teased at the far walls but did not illuminate them, giving Elsa a feeling of being lost in an endless void.

"Where do we go?" Odette whispered.

They both fell silent and listened, trying to pick up a fragment of noise that might lead them towards the convocation of their enemies. It would have felt more natural if there had been a faint drip, from a faraway water source, or the tinny squeaks from a colony of bats nested somewhere. But everything was completely, terribly quiet. This was a place where life was extinguished.

"I don't know," Elsa whispered again, even her faint voice seemed too loud, unnatural. "I'm glad you talked me out of bringing the locket. This is a very dark place."

Indeed, beneath the silence and the emptiness, there was power here. It thickened the very air itself, making breaths come shallow.

A single, bloodcurdling scream split the air. Odette gasped and grabbed for Elsa's arm, but she was already sprinting in the direction of the sound. Odette hurried after her. They flew through the temple now, entering another long corridor and dashing along it until a wan light was visible in the distance. They came into a vast, underground atrium, on a balcony level overlooking a procession on the floor below.

Two flights of stairs, one on either side of the chamber, led down to the floor level, but it appeared that there were corridors on that level leading away as well. It was filled with the cultists of Everdark and the hostages below, congregated around a small pedestal in the center of the room. Upon it sat a small, nondescript-looking black amulet.

A young girl, no older than ten, had been the source of the scream. She crouched on the ground beside the pedestal, hands clamped over her ears, screaming shrilly. A few soldiers stood near her, but they didn't seem to be trying to stop her. As a matter of fact, no one seemed to be paying her any heed at all. They all faced the amulet, strangely motionless and devoid.

Elsa had to fight back a gasp. Down there, right beside the pedestal, stood Novendon, the wizard who had led her into Everdark's trap in Nahat'Tiemn last October. The old man's face was colored deeply with satisfaction as he slowly, almost languidly, rolled back his sleeves and then reached out to remove the amulet from the pedestal. He hesitated for a moment before touching it, and then lifted it up all at once, twisting it to gleam brilliantly in the reflected lanternlight.

"That locket looks just like the one that Ceristo Siguror had!" Odette whispered.

Elsa just nodded, too stunned to reply. For the first time in a long while, she thought about the conversation that she had with Montaigne the night Anna had gotten married. About her father's encounter with a witch in France, and how he'd accidentally stumbled into the ritual that would allow Everdark to return to the world. Her father had been cursed by that witch, a curse that would introduce magic to the Siguror bloodline. It was where Elsa had gotten her powers.

But it was also something else, a link between Elsa's family and Everdark that had been inexplicable and unnatural. Months later, she and Odette had discovered that Ceristo Siguror, the first in her bloodline, had worshipped Everdark, but she hadn't ever really stopped to think about it before. She hadn't had the time, nor the willpower, to contemplate the possible corruption of her ancestors.

But that medallion matched the one Ceristo Siguror had owned perfectly. The same golden chain, the same inky black gemstone.

And presumably, the same connection to dark magic.

"Today is a wonderful day," Novendon said, his voice carrying over the little girl's screaming. Still no one made to stop her. "Very few have experienced the great privilege that we are fortunate enough to partake in today. Very few have been so blessed as us. We, the favored sons and daughters of the most powerful entity this existence has ever known. We have been given the privilege of welcoming the Lord of Darkness back into the world after millennia of captivity."

"Oh, dear god," Odette whispered.

"Only two artifacts have ever existed which have the power to open the world to the soul of a god, and I hold one of them in my hands," Novendon said. "It took us considerable effort to locate one of them, but finally, we have done it. Now all we need is a drop of humanity."

"They're going to start killing children," Odette said, no longer whispering. She stood up again, and started to run towards the stairs. No one noticed her below. They all focused on Novendon, their attention rapt.

Elsa watched Odette run, eyes widening. It was idiocy. They were horribly outmatched by the odds in the chamber alone, but what if they were unable to stop the ritual? Did Odette think that they would be able to fight Everdark itself? Elsa felt her stomach dropping, felt fear making her mouth feel metallic.

But Odette never got to the stairs. Novendon slid a long, curved knife from his sleeve, and with it he pricked the end of his finger, drawing a bead of red and then pressing it onto the amulet. The room instantly went pitch-black, and grew very cold. Elsa stood up and ran after Odette.

A deep rumble struck up in the chamber, so loud that it like it was vibrating in Elsa's bones. Then there was a strange warping noise, and the darkness collapsed unto itself in the center of the room. There was enough light to see by now, and Elsa could make out a familiar form in silhouette standing by the pedestal. An aberrant creature, with the body of a horse, the torso of a powerful man, and the head and wings of a massive vulture.

Elsa reached Odette and threw her arms around the girl, turning and dragging them back towards the corridor they'd came from. Odette resisted for a moment, and then gave way and they started to run. On the floor below, Everdark extended an arm, fingers outstretched with the palm facing upwards. Then it clenched its hand into a fist, and all at once every child on the floor below died, their souls torn violently from their bodies and flowing into Everdark in a screaming torrent.

Little bloodless, lifeless forms collapsed to the ground as Elsa and Odette reached the mouth of the chamber. Elsa looked over her shoulder once more before they ran, tears streaming down her face.

Everdark began to roar with triumph, a horrible sound that chased them on their sprint back through the temple, a haunting noise that mocked their powerlessness, their cowardice. They hit the desert sands, and Elsa made the ground icy, and they flew like the wind, tears still streaming down their faces.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

 _There is a common misunderstanding about the Lost Immortals. Everdark destroyed them during its first conquest of the Sea of Stars, but this did not wipe out the race of 'immortals' as we know them. Lesser beings survived to propagate and eventually repopulate the Sea. Even these beings know little about their forgotten predecessors._

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _The 'Histories'_

* * *

London,

England,

December 14th, 1843

Sir Robert Peel did not like being made to hide. He had always prided himself on his ability to meet the opposition with poise and with resolve – this hiding and cowering business made his skin crawl. It wasn't fit for a man of his station. Then again, his opposition in the past had always been men with different political beliefs, not the sort of bloodthirsty monster that he had been warned might come for him.

What was the world coming to these days?

Peel reclined on the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table, unfolding the broadsheet and preparing himself to scowl as he considered the headline. To his surprise, it was apolitical, an interview with the composer behind the opera _The Bohemian Girl_ , which had been playing at the Drury Lane Theatre for a few weeks now. Peel smiled a bit to himself; it was a rare treat to be able to read something in the morning that didn't agitate his ulcer.

A soft knock at the door into the sitting room drew his attention. A girl – well, a young lady – stood just beyond the threshold. The daughter of the Lockwoods, who were hiding him here, her name was… Maisie? Peel had a hard time remembering it. She wasn't pretty.

"Sir Peel? A group of three, here to see you."

Peel frowned. "Me? They asked for me?"

No one was supposed to know he was here, of course. Well, except for De Kere, of course, and a few other MPs, but certainly no one in the opposition, and he doubted that word would have gotten around –

"Yes, sir. It's rather odd, actually, they didn't arrive at the front door. They came in through the servant's entrance –"

"They've already been let in?" Peel said, eyes widening and setting the paper down. He sat up. "Well who the blazes had the bright idea to do that?"

A tall, handsome young man stepped around the girl and walked into the room. Strangely, he didn't look at Peel first. Instead, he immediately walked over to the room's other door, one that let into the hallway towards the dining room and opened it. He peered down it for a moment and then shut the door again. Then, curiously, he walked over to the room's drapes and drew them back a bit, looking out onto the lawn beyond them.

"Do you always keep this window closed during the day?" He asked.

"Excuse me?" Sir Peel said. He was beginning to wonder if he was having some sort of ludicrous dream. "Who are you, young man? How did you get in here?"

The man turned back to Maisie. She nodded. "Whenever Sir Peel is in the room, yes, we're very careful."

The man frowned and rubbed at his beard. "You mean to tell me that the curtains are only drawn during the day if the minister is in the room?"

Maisie thought about that for a moment. "Well, yes, I'd say so."

"Now, just a minute," Peel said, standing up and walking over to the young man. He waved a hand in the fellow's face. "You seem to be conversing about me as if I'm not in the room! And you still haven't introduced yourself! I say, a sane man would driven to outrage by this sort of treatment!"

The young man looked down at Peel in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable, and unmanly. Then he spoke.

"I am Hans Westergaard of the Unified Empire. We spoke with De Kere, who indicated your willingness to hold an audience with Empress Anna Siguror. She is awaiting you at the study. I suggest you go to her while I discuss the matter of your security with the young lady."

Peel managed to stifle a groan. It was _these_ folks, these ones that have been part of this trouble with Everdark from the very start. Peel knew that it sounded conspiratorial, but he wasn't entirely convinced that they didn't have a hand in starting this all in the first place. To boot, they were all a bunch of children, an entire nation run by people barely ten years older than Maisie. But he knew that the empress had some very powerful people under her command, and it would be rather foolish to refuse to speak to them outright. So instead he smiled in what he hoped was a rather welcoming way.

"Ah, the entourage from the new Empire! Yes, we've been looking forward to your arrival! We've heard some very good –"

"Less than two hours ago, foreign terrorists created an explosion in a civilian home less than three kilometers from this house," Hans said, "as a warning to demonstrate that they have the capability of doing it anywhere in this city, at any time."

Peel's smile faded.

"We have no idea whether they've already determined where your hiding, minister, but it's certainly possible. Perhaps likely. I have neither the time, nor the patience, for your disingenuous supplication. Direct it to the empress; perhaps she will be so kind as to extend to you the generosity of our protection."

Peel slowly swallowed. This man was formidable. After a few moment's thought, he could not come up with anything to say back, and he shuffled out of the room towards the study. On the way, he heard Westergaard say to Maisie, 'it's unfortunate that you've been closing the curtains only when Peel is in this sitting room. Anyone from the street has a fine view of this window, and of course if the curtains closed at regular intervals each day, an astute observer will notice the irregularities…'

xxx

Anna glanced over her shoulder from the seat before the desk as Peel walked into the room. He was fatter than she remembered him, and he had less hair. He looked quite a bit older. He nodded distractedly to Anna, mumbled a greeting to her, turned his gaze on Kariena for a moment and mumbled another, and then walked around them both and sat behind the desk.

"I must say that this is a rather bizarre way to meet, if you ask me," Peel said, shuffling about a few papers on the desk that didn't belong to him, and then straightening a pen. "Your man out there was rather rude, I say."

"You must forgive Hans, minister," Anna said, crossing one leg over the other and lacing her fingers together on her knee. "since his first death, he has had little patience for the kinds of men that his father might have once been friends with. Since his second death, he has lost what little patience he had left."

Peel shifted uncomfortably for a moment, and then suddenly bristled. "Now wait one second, here," he said, waving a finger. "I know what you're trying to do here, princess –"

"Empress," Anna corrected him.

"- you're trying to scare me! To make me think that I'm in over my head!"

Anna raised an eyebrow. Her eyes flickered briefly to Kariena, who shrugged.

"What?" Peel asked, exasperated. "Are you going to tell me that I'm mistaken?"

"No," Anna said. "But you must understand, minister, we're not trying to scare you."

"Then what do you call all this business about sneaking in through the servant's entrance, and frightening poor Maisie with the business about the front window, and –"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Anna said. "But Hans was directed to examine the circumstances of your security, minister. So if he was saying anything frightening, take it as a warning that you have been engaging in compromising behavior. As for the 'business' of sneaking through the servant's entrance, we are doing what we can to conceal your presence from Everdark. The Cult of Entropy has many agents in this city, and they _are_ searching for you, minister."

Peel frowned deeply. Anna knew that the man was intelligent enough to understand the gravity of the situation, but in her experience, powerful men were often proud enough to act in profoundly unintelligent ways. At the end of the day, Peel was a fussy old man who didn't acclimate well to change. Would he be able to accept that he needed the Unified Empire's help?

"How did you end up in charge, empress?" Peel asked suddenly.

Kariena sat up in her seat, languor shaken off. Anna frowned.

"You mean in charge of my empire?" Anna replied.

"Yes," Peel said. "After all, your sister was the Queen of Arendelle, so how should it be that you end up the empress of the new empire? After all, you're soon to be a mother. I'm surprised that you torture yourself with the burden of rule."

Anna knew that Peel was deflecting his own discomfort, trying to put her on the back foot. Unfortunately, it worked. It was a question that she often asked herself. After all, she'd practically had no input on how she ended up here – Elsa and Hans had just sort of decided that she was right for the job. But that was the kind of thinking that Sorise would chide her for. It didn't matter how a monarch ended up on the throne, so long as they ruled well. Whatever 'well' meant.

"The burden of duty is hardly torture, minister," Anna said. "And I cannot see how motherhood should disqualify me from leadership any more than fatherhood."

Peel spluttered. "Oh, no, empress, I didn't mean that –"

"Dispense yourself of apologies, minister," Anna said, "and of pleasantries in general. I'm sure that you know why we're here."

Peel scowled, now. "Yes, to do the same thing to Her Majesty's land that you did to poor old Arianna," he said. "Well, I'll have you know that I don't have any say in the matter. Things work a bit more _democratically_ around here than in Arendelle or Corona."

Anna sighed. "Minister, we're not here to argue with you. If you agree that your nation is in great danger, and you want our assistance defending it, then we should continue this conversation. If not, we're perfectly happy to leave and let you take back control of the situation."

Peel didn't really seem angry, just upset. He was probably afraid, but unwilling to admit it.

"If I take your help, you'll expect the country as payment! I'm telling you, it's not mine to give!"

"That's fine, minister," Anna said. "But we'll want your party behind joining the empire, and your recommendation to the queen."

"You're conquerors," Peel said, but his heart wasn't in it. Anna could see the fear in his eyes now. He'd probably already made up his mind, maybe days ago. He was going to say yes.

"Yep, we basically are," Anna said, smiling tightly. "Now, do you want to live another week, or what?"

She extended her hand across the table.

Peel looked disgusted with himself as he reached across to shake it.

xxx

Kariena adjusted the lace hem of her blouse and smiled brightly at the matronly woman standing in front of her, tilting her head slightly sideways. A winter coat lay crumpled on the ground around by her feet, shed to reveal the scanty outfit of a burlesque dancer. The woman looked Kariena up and down.

"Turn around."

Kariena turned around, wondering if there was a mark on her thigh from where she'd had a knife belted earlier. Kariena didn't feel embarrassed in the slightest as the woman prodded the space between her legs with a cane. The redhead widened her stance slightly. Kariena had been on the streets for as long as she could remember, and for years she'd been a stripper, and then some sort of hybrid between a call girl and an informant. She was never bashful about exposure anymore, especially now that she'd come to realize that she had the sort of body that tended to make _other_ people embarrassed.

"I don't buy it," the owner of the burlesque said. Her name, evidently, was Madame Rouge, an attempt at sounding French that seemed uninspired even to Kariena, who didn't know any of the language. Madame Rouge's voice was gravelly from long years of pipe smoking.

"Don't buy what?" Kariena asked as the woman came back around to her front and looked her up and down again.

"I don't buy it, you're far too pretty to be looking for work in a place like this. You could walk into any gentleman's club in the city and walk out with a steady boyfriend. One who would take you on dates quite a bit nicer than the ones a gentleman who frequents this establishment would be able to offer you."

"If you must know," Kariena said, "my face has become… known, to much of the high society in this city. I don't have a particularly good reputation among them."

"Ah. I see," Madame Rouge said, clicking her tongue. "A couple of the guys that go with you find out that their pocketbook is a little lighter than they expected the morning after, so your name ends up blacklisted by high society. But by that time, you've got some debts, and you need some money to pay it back quick."

Kariena made a show of wincing. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"Hey, who am I to judge?" Madame Rouge said. "You're hired, of course. Just be warned that there's a good chance you end up taking some business away from the other girls, and they won't be too happy about that. I suggest you make friends with them all good and early, or it might come back to bite you. Put your clothes back on, honey."

Kariena reached down and scooped the coat back up and slid it on over her shoulders. "Can I start tonight?"

Madame Rouge had started to turn towards the room's door, but she glanced back. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. I suppose that's what you're dressed for, isn't it? Yeah. Sure. What do I care?"

And with that, the portly woman shuffled out. Kariena watched her go, and then slipped out into the burlesque house and quickly climbed the stairs, avoiding the parlor room below where the patrons would come to meet available women. Instead, she climbed the stairs, up to the rooms on the upper floor where patrons would complete their transactions. She walked along the hallway, tapping slightly on each of the closed doors along one side of the hallway, until one swung open. Unoccupied.

Kariena stepped inside and shut the door behind her. After a second's thought, she locked it. Then she walked across the room and opened the window. Like all the rooms on this side of the second floor, the view from the window looked across the street, towards another whorehouse.

 _So that's it, huh?_ Kariena thought, looking the building up and down. _I figured Everdark's people would have tried to find a slightly nicer place to put up._

The building was older than the one Kariena was in now, and not particularly well-maintained. It was two stories, as well, and there was no visible commotion from the building, although several of the windows were lit. She picked one and watched the even glow for a full minute, never picking up a trace of movement from inside. Finally, she tore herself away, realizing that it probably wasn't safe to be standing backlit in a window across the street from the enemy for so long.

She walked back over to the bed and sat down.

 _Where is he?_ Kariena thought. _Sure is taking his sweet time._

Almost as if on cue, a dark form dropped _past_ the window, and then caught the windowsill. It quickly ambled onto it and slipped in through the opening. Hans was wearing all black, and Kariena could see that he wasn't wearing any exterior gun belts. That didn't mean he was without one, of course; Kariena would be willing to bet that he would have a pair in shoulder holsters, if nowhere else, but he still clearly projected that he was intending on remaining quiet.

Hans nodded to her.

"Thanks. I thought it would take you longer to get up to one of the rooms."

"No," Kariena replied, "it seems that I sufficiently outdid myself in the interview process. She hired me on the spot."

Hans nodded. "Good, good. Notice any activity over there?"

While he talked, he unshouldered a pack and opened it, removing from within a length of coiled rope and a midsize, wrought-iron bulb. It took Kariena a moment to realize that it was a grappling hook. He also removed something that looked like a cross between a pistol and a rifle – it had a pistol stock and chamber, but with a very long barrel that would probably have to be held with the other hand. He began to draw bullets from within a small pouch in the bag and chamber them into the carbine, rotating the barrel each time. One. Two. Three. Four.

Then he handed the gun to her. Kariena frowned for a moment – she didn't like, nor was she particularly good with – firearms, but she took it.

"Are you sure that this is such a good idea?" Kariena said, realizing for the first time that she was beginning to have doubts about this plan. "I mean, we're kind of putting all of our cards on the table, here."

"You know," he replied, "I often find that if I think too hard about a plan, I end up talking myself out of it, no matter _how_ good it might be."

"Is that why you haven't made love to me yet?" Kariena asked.

Hans turned and gave her a pointed look.

"Kidding," she said, smiling brightly at him.

"Besides," Hans said, "if the Cult of Entropy wants to play a game of fear, then that's exactly what we're going to give them. They wanted to show us that they have the power to strike whenever, and wherever, they want, so I think that it's only fitting that we reply in kind."

Kariena watched him walk over to the window and start judging distances by extending his arm, and then his thumb. He squinted, then tried with the other arm. Triangulating between them.

"It's just that, when we would plan out jobs on the underground, back in New York," Kariena said, "we would take months on a single hit, making sure that we could make everything go off without a hitch. Vetting targets, making sure that we always had multiple ways out, you know?"  
"If we wait too long, we miss our chance," Hans said very seriously. "Everdark might be something inhuman, Kariena, but its followers are more like you and me than they'd like to admit."

He stood up and stashed his pack by the window, and then walked towards it again. "Fear _does_ influence them. And I'm going to make them afraid."

After a few moments of silence, Kariena sighed and then broke open the chamber of the carbine. She turned it upside down and spilled the bullets onto the bed. "Alright, fine. Then I'm not going to cover you with a damn gun, Hans. I'm going with you."

She stood up and withdrew a pair of broad, thin knives from within her coat.

The smallest edge of a smile crept onto Hans's face.

"Good." A hard glint flashed in his eyes. "Leave no survivors."

In one movement, Hans placed a hand on the windowsill and swept his way out.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

 _Lesser immortals now occupy the dominions that their greater masters once used to. This is the case for all of the dominions in the Sea of Stars, except, oddly enough, for the Dominion of Glory. The Throne of Glory has been empty for millennia._

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _The 'Histories'_

* * *

The Imperial Palace,

Arendelle

December 16th, 1843

Elsa stood just outside the door to the conference chamber. She was alone in the bare hallway, pale sunlight filtering through a series of windows along the wall. She'd been trying to figure out the words that she had to say to her ring of advisors, but they seemed elusive. What could she say that wouldn't send them into a panic? What could she say to let them know that there was still reason to hope?

Was there still reason to hope?  
The world hadn't ended overnight, so there was that to be thankful for. Elsa wasn't sure how much had changed. How much harder would Everdark be to defeat, now that it had re-entered the world? Had they passed some point of no return?

The door to the conference room opened slightly, and Odette peeked out at her.

"They're getting pretty restless in there," she said softly.

Elsa sighed. "Well, then we'd better get this over with."

They both stepped back into the vaulted chamber. A large, circular table dominated the room, large enough to seat forty, but understaffed. Queen Arianna and a dozen or so people associated with her government or with Arendelle's sat in the chamber, clustered around the near side of the table. A somber air glowered over them all.

"Finally," one of Arianna's men grumbled softly as Elsa took her place at the head of the table.

She pretended not to notice.

"Good morning," Elsa said to them all, nodding her head.

"What about this morning, exactly, is good?" Arianna said, an unsubtle edge to her voice. Elsa and Anna's aunt had never forgiven them for the way she'd been made to swear allegiance to the Unified Empire. Elsa hadn't expected Corona to be such a persistent problem for them, but Arianna had made It quite clear that she did not consider her position in the empire a permanent one.

Elsa bit back an argumentative reply. Her heart sank slightly as several people around the room nodded or voiced assent, including some of her own. These were people who had held her in the utmost respect as their queen just months before. Now Elsa felt like a stranger in their presence.

 _How quickly things change,_ she mused to herself. _Suddenly Anna's the one with all the talent for statecraft. If she were here, she'd be able to pacify them._

"Agnarr always believed that even on mornings that are not good, we should still say 'good morning,' if only out of the hope that by our collective will we can improve our fortunes."

"I believe that you brought us news, Protector," Charles Vander prompted gently, before the hostility could continue. Elsa was glad that Vander had made it. She hadn't been in Arendelle much recently, but according to Anna, the elderly man was beginning to have difficulty climbing stairs.

"Yes, and I regret to say that it is not good news," Elsa said. "You are all no doubt aware that I have been away for several weeks. Most recently, this time was spent in Egypt, where Everdark's forces had recently made inroads. My purpose was to act as a harrying force, trying to disrupt them where I could without engaging directly."

She added that last part to remind them all, once again, that she was still just a human. Immortality or not, magical abilities or not, she was one person, and she couldn't fight all the forces of darkness by herself. Unfortunately, that seemed to displease some of their allies. Indeed, the same man who had grumbled upon her arrival turned his gaze towards the ceiling now. It annoyed Elsa, but there was really nothing that she could do. It might give her some small satisfaction to berate, or frighten, this man, but Anna would be the one who would have to pick up the pieces of the frayed alliance later.

"I discovered that they were excavating the monuments in the Valley of the Kings," Elsa said, "though at first I could only guess as to what their motives were. By the time Odette and I figured out, it was too late. They recovered a dark artifact from one of the temples, and using it, they recalled Everdark to the world."

Elsa looked around the table. Thirteen faces, so few of them anything better than hostile.

"Until now, our enemy was confined to the Sea of Stars, made to lead from afar. That is no longer. We do not know for certain what this change will bring, but it is possible that the God of Darkness will attack us itself. At the least, we should be prepared for that eventuality."

"What?" The same, belligerent man said, incredulous. He was smiling, in a 'this is absurd' sort of way. "What do you mean, we should prepare ourselves? Haven't you been spending the last two months telling us that Everdark was a world-ending threat? One that, by the way, _we_ still haven't seen any evidence of, mind you! And now you've decided that we should be prepared to fight it directly? And of course you won't be here to help, us will you? You'll be off gallivanting halfway across the world, wasting your time on some other useless mission, won't you, _Protector_? _"_

The man spat the last word, cheeks ruddy, face flushed. He pounded a meaty fist on the table.

Elsa felt an instantaneous fury, a white-hot rage that demanded to be satiated. The man's insubordination must be punished. Before she could stop herself, she started to move –

Twelve horrified gazes stared back at her as she stood with one hand outstretched towards the man, magic playing around her fingertips. He met her gaze defiantly. Almost seeming to dare her to strike him down. Elsa realized that she'd already lost. By raising a hand against him in anger, she'd validated his distrust and hatred of her. Her shoulders slumped as she lowered her arm.

"What is your name?" She asked him, feeling deflated and very weary.

Some of the tension in the room faded away. Several held breaths were released.

"Secretary Schlemmer," he said, voice still dripping with vitriol. " _Your empire's_ new treasury secretary, if you cared enough to pay attention."

"Well, Schlemmer," Elsa said tiredly, "be observant and notice that I didn't execute you for your insubordination right there. I appreciate the service that you provide for our empire, but you would do well to remember that a treasurer is very… _replaceable._ I might not have many allies in this room right now, but I can guarantee you that in a disagreement between the two of us, no one is going to come to your defense."

There was utter silence. Elsa deliberately forced herself to maintain eye contact with Schlemmer, not only because she wanted to intimidate him, but also because she couldn't bring herself to meet Odette's gaze after caving into something as base and juvenile as threatening the man's life. Schlemmer's hard gaze faltered, and he finally glanced down, a bead of sweat visible on his forehead even from Elsa's distance.

"Yes, Protector," he said eventually in a small voice.

Elsa felt a wave of guilt and shame as she looked around the table again to find that no one seemed willing to meet her eyes now.

 _I used to be able to rule without fear,_ she thought to herself. _Or was that always an illusion?_

"To your other point," Elsa continued, deliberately taking some of the edge out of her voice, "I would expect Corona to have a longer memory for its own experience against Everdark's forces. At the very least, Arianna surely still remembers."

Arianna continued to stare at her hands. Saying nothing.

"Perhaps the reason that you consider my absences to be 'gallivanting' is related to the lack of transparency with regard to their purpose," Elsa said. "That point is taken. Until now, we have considered it to be an unnecessary risk to share information about the purpose of my missions with the advisors to the throne, considering that we are unable to personally account for the loyalty of each of you. But now I can see that we should be taking steps to bring you all into the fold."

In her peripheral vision, Elsa saw Odette's eyebrows shoot up. It was Odette who had come up with the idea of secrecy about Elsa's location. She hadn't liked the reticence of Arianna and her people to join the empire, and Odette still didn't trust that they were entirely on the same side. She was still of the belief that something was distinctly _wrong_ about the way the Coronans had acted recently.

Elsa tried not to think about it too much.

"I will discuss this with the empress upon her return from London," Elsa said. "In the meantime, I hope very much that an appreciation for the gravity of our circumstances will lead you all to redouble your efforts at doing your best for this empire."

"Is that all, Protector?" Vander asked.

"For now," Elsa said. "I'm aware that I haven't offered any advice on how best we might combat this new threat. That's because I don't have any, yet. I decided that it would be best to share this information with you all as soon as possible. We'll continue to be in touch as the empire develops an official plan of action."

After a few moments of waiting in silence to see if anyone else would ask a question, Elsa nodded. "Very well. You are dismissed."

The scrape of chairs against the marble flooring echoed in the chamber as the advisors filed out of the room. Elsa tried to catch Arianna's gaze as her aunt walked past, intending to apologize for invoking the death of her husband as an argument against Schlemmer, but Arianna swept past quickly, staring at the floor. After a few moments, the only people left in the chamber were herself, Odette, Montaigne, and Sorise Linkletter.

Sorise tucked a stray hair back into her bun and fixed her indeterminable gaze on Elsa. "I find it quite surprising that the empress considers herself to be an inferior leader to you, Protector. All the issues of temperament that she possesses are magnified several times in you."

Odette bristled. "Now, I hardly think that's fair. The man is an asshole."

The elderly woman's slight smile disappeared, turning instead to a hard line. "He is _concerned._ He has yet to see the fruits of this new alliance benefiting his people, and you bring him news of a great and terrible new threat that he must contend with. Likely, he is quite new to the notion of a world in which the fate of multitudes rests upon the ability of a very small number of people to manipulate magic against an ancient god of darkness."

Sorise looked between them both. "If your argument is that the secretary acted out of line when he spoke in such a way to Elsa, I must respectfully disagree. One could argue that a nation's leader should be above this kind of reproach, but Elsa is not this nation's leader."

Elsa spoke before Odette could reply, voice weary. "Alright, that's enough of that. Montaigne, were you planning on berating me too, or can we head our separate ways?"

She tried not to let an edge of sarcasm taint her voice, but it was hard to keep it out. It seemed that everyone was against her, today. Mentally, she told herself that it was the bad news. These people were frightened by the news of Everdark's return, and they were coping with it irrationally, lashing out at the person they expected to solve their problems for them. Elsa had about her fill of it for one day.

"No, I think that I'll just keep my thoughts to myself," Montaigne said, eyes twinkling humorously.

Elsa forced herself to smile. "Very well, then. I'll see the both of you later."

She nodded to them and turned to walk out of the conference chamber, Odette falling into step beside her.

xxx

Later that day, Elsa sat behind Odette on the bed in their personal chamber, absently weaving the long brown strands of her hair into a French braid, like the kind that she used to wear.

"Am I being thin-skinned?" Elsa asked.

"No," Odette immediately replied, glancing over her shoulder. "I mean, the Coronans have had a vendetta against us ever since Arianna swore allegiance to the empire, but for some reason Sorise has always hated you, too. I didn't think she'd ever say something like that to your face, though."

"I mean, was that hatred?" Elsa asked. "Or was she just speaking her mind? Are we doing the right thing, Odette? Or are we just telling ourselves that?"

"Are we doing the right thing by fighting back against Everdark? Of course we are," Odette said. "So everything else is irrelevant. What we're doing here isn't a buffet platter. People don't get to decide that they want our protection, and complain about our methods at the same time. It just doesn't work that way."

Elsa let go of Odette's hair involuntarily. After a moment, Odette turned back again.

"What is it?"

"Part of the reason that I hired you for the magistrate's council all that time ago was because I was impressed by how you spoke truth to power, Odette," Elsa said softly. "You believed in accountability and justice for the people at the top."

Odette turned all the way around now and took Elsa's hands in her own. "I still do. And in a perfect world, I'd be happy to entertain dissenting opinions. Hell, I'd be the one voicing them, if no one else was willing to do it. But we are living through a crisis on a magnitude greater than anything anyone has ever experienced, Elsa. Philosophically just rule is fit for peacetime. Benevolent dictatorship is what will guide us through war."

Elsa gulped. "You know, it offended me more than it should have, when Sorise insulted my temperament. I… I always thought that I'd been a pretty good queen. Not a perfect one, but I tried my best."

Odette reached forwards and pulled Elsa's head into her bosom, running her hand through the queen's silvery hair.

"You were." Odette sighed. "You know, for all the terrible things that my father did, there's one thing that I'm grateful he taught me."

"What's that?" Elsa asked, curious. Odette didn't talk much about her father. He was an abusive man, a terrible, violent person. He'd killed her mother.

"Just because someone is older than you, it doesn't mean that they're right," she said. "Sorise may have spent forty years studying the lives of medieval kings, but that didn't imbue her with their wisdom. There's a big difference between learned and smart."

Elsa sighed. "I wish that there wasn't, though. Maybe then I'd know what to do just by watching what Ashanerat did, six thousand years ago."

Odette didn't reply for a few moments.

"I have a theory," she finally said, "about why I get visions from ancient Greece, and you get ones from Celestus," she said.

"Oh?" Elsa replied, sitting back up and adjusting one of the shoulder straps on the shift that she wore.

"Yes, but we'll need to wait until Hans returns to test it out," she said.

They still hadn't gotten another update from Hans and Anna and Kariena in London, although Anna had been gone with them for two days, now. Which meant that things had probably not gone according to plan. It was to be expected, yet still it was worrisome. Elsa always felt like some part of her was never able to truly relax when Anna wasn't near her side. Something left over from when they'd been forced to spend years apart. Elsa was snapped from her rumination by Odette's voice, excitedly plowing on.

"You have visions of the last Protector, right?"

"Yes," Elsa said.

"I think I'm seeing the last Mender," Odette said. "But I just don't recognize them yet."

"You're telling me that there wasn't convenient exposition at the start of your first vision?" Elsa joked. In reality, she had been lucky that her first vision had been a reliving of a conversation that Ashanerat had had with one of the other wizards in Celestus's ruling consulate, a man named Rhennalus. In it, she'd learned Ashanerat's name and duties.

"But you really think so?" Elsa said, more seriously.

"It does make a certain amount of sense, right?" Odette asked. "I had Anna try to use it, to see if she'd be able to have a vision, and she could barely bring herself to touch it. Do you remember the way it made me sick, the first time that I did?"  
Elsa frowned. "Yes, it gave you nausea," she said. "But now that I think about it, you seem perfectly able to touch it now."

Excitedly, Odette stood up and walked over to the dresser, where she took a box out of one of the drawers and retrieved the amulet. She walked back over. "Touch it," she said. "And tell me what it feels like."

Elsa slowly closed her eyes, reached out, and placed her hand on it.

"It feels… warm," she said. "Pleasantly so. And there's a vibration, I can feel, even though I know that it's not moving. I can feel a sense of power, emanating from it. Welcoming me," she said thoughtfully.

"And it always did feel that way to you," Odette said, "because by the time that we found it, you already knew that you were the Protector. You'd already been awakened. But the first time that I touched it, I didn't know that I was a Mender yet. I hadn't even really admitted that I was a witch yet. I'm telling you, that this amulet _speaks_ to the archmages. Anyone else who touches it gets sick. But we feel the same thing."

Elsa met Odette's eyes. She was right, Elsa realized.

"So… why was an amulet just like this one in Egypt, and why did they need it to bring back Everdark?" She wondered aloud. "What does that have in common with us?"

Odette put the amulet back into its box and returned it to the dresser. "Well, I'm just speculating, but I have a guess."

Elsa raised an eyebrow. "Okay, shoot."

"Well, when you told us about the Sea of Stars, do you remember that I took notes on everything you said?"

"Yes," Elsa said. "You said that you wanted to preserve everything the way I remembered it directly after the fact, in case we needed a detailed account later."

Odette was moving again, turning the room over to look for the papers that she took the notes in. Finally, she found the ledger underneath a pile of other ones in a cabinet beside the desk.

"Here we go."

She walked back over to the bed and flipped it open to a silk bookmark that she'd left in a page partway through.

"Here is the first time that you mention the 'Lost Immortals.' You said that all you knew about them was that there were inhabitants of the Sea of Stars before the current ones, and that in the very distant past something happened that made them all go away. You didn't know what it was, and you weren't sure if they were important, somehow. They'd come up in a conversation that you had with Verne, your wizard companion."

Elsa felt a pang of sorrow, remembering the dear man who had given his life for her during the battle at the Worldgate. Her entire experience in the Sea of Stars felt so distant now. It was almost as if she'd dreamt the whole thing. She wondered briefly if the Hall of Glory, the dominion that Everdark had gifted to her while she was still its thrall, was still hers. It couldn't be, right? Did it matter if it was?

"I remember," Elsa said.

"Well, I talked to Hans about the Lost Immortals before he left for London, and he had an answer for me. Apparently Hades told him about them, one time. Hades wasn't the first God of the Underworld. Originally, Everdark possessed that role. As a matter of fact, none of the Immortals in the Sea of Stars are the original ones anymore. It turns out, Everdark was part of a group of thirteen divine beings that comprised the original inhabitants of the Sea of Stars. They each held something called a 'dominion,' which I suppose is just a partition of the Sea."

"Yes, I have one," Elsa said.

"The dominion of Glory," Odette said, flipping a few pages to where Elsa had told them of that. "According to Hades, the original paragon of that dominion was a platinum dragon called Tevarion the Sunmaker."

Elsa snorted.

"Anyway," Odette continued, "I think that the amulets are artifacts left behind from the era of the original immortals. They seem connected to ancient and powerful magics, and I can't imagine a man-made relic having the power to re-bind a god to the world. The only question is how your ancestor ended up with one."

Elsa sighed. "And as for that, unfortunately, I don't think that we'll ever know. Whatever records of Ceristo that we used to have, got destroyed during the sacking."

Odette shrugged. "I wouldn't be quite so certain. I think that the truth will find its way to us eventually, somehow. In any case, in the meantime I think that we should both be deliberately trying to use the amulet to experience visions more often, from now on. I think it's safe to say by now that Everdark isn't controlling the visions, and I think that after the business with the Wargates, it's become clear that there's a lot we can learn from them."

Elsa nodded. "I was about to make the same suggestion, actually. I have plenty more to learn from Ashanerat."


	11. Chapter Ten

Author's Note:

This will probably come as a surprise to you longtime readers (and will be sure to bug the pattern-completion folks out there :P), but each of the arcs in Immortal is actually going to be _twelve_ chapters long, instead of the familiar ten. This is a decision I'm sort of making on the fly, based on the amount of story that I'm gauging that there's left to tell right now. If it ends up not working out too well, then Arc Seven might be the black sheep.

Anyway, after chapter twelve there will be the interludes that you're all familiar with, and then a new short story! More details on that later.

Happy reading! :)

xxx

Chapter Ten

 _You ask me what makes the Dominion of Glory unique? To that, I have no answer. Many wise arcanists have spent a lifetime searching for the answer to this question, to no avail. Perhaps the future will hold the answer._

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _The 'Histories'_

* * *

London,

England

December 14th, 1843

Kariena had to sprint to keep up with Hans as he dashed across the street, coat flaring behind him. Her mind spun as she did, anticipation of the fighting making her thoughts jumpy and skittish. Moments like these were the ones where she liked Hans the least, if only because he scared her during them. The intensity with which he'd told her to kill them all… he meant to do it.

They reached the building and didn't stop. Hans leapt and crashed through the ground-floor window beside the door in a shower of twinkling glass shards. Kariena followed after him. She landed in a crouch on the floor of the burlesque's lobby, surrounded by surprised-looking men. They sat around a cluster of tables to one side of the room, smoking and playing cards. They wore plainclothes, and for a moment Kariena froze, convinced that they had made a miscalculation. But then, she looked up and saw a man on the far side of the room, standing in the stairwell that led up to the second floor. He wore the robes of a cultist, sable with a golden trim, and his exposed flesh was scrawled with cryptic tattoos. The marks of a wizard in the service of Darkness.

Hans hadn't frozen. By the time Kariena had taken in the scene he had drawn his twin blades and rushed the nearest table. The first man was fumbling with his belt for a weapon when Hans rammed a sword through his head, twisting the body off of its chair towards the others, where it intercepted three bullets. He shoved the corpse off of his sword hard, and it tipped the nearest table, sending several chairs toppling to the ground. Hans ducked behind the turned table and drove his other sword into the chest of one of the fallen men.

Kariena finally started to move when bullets snapped the hardwood around her. She flipped her daggers around and stepped into the void, disappearing in a burst of arcane purples and blues. In her mind, she saw where she would appear: ten or so feet away, by the second table, where the men were shooting guns. And she did, twisting out of the aether to land on top table, sending drinks toppling to the ground. She whirled about, spinning her knives deftly and drawing sprays of blood.

The wizard was moving now, and Kariena rolled off of the table just in time for it to explode in front of her, showering her with stinging splinters. She hissed and slid backwards towards the wall, looking down at the thin red streaks on her arms. Hans ran past her, straight towards the wizard. The wizard grinned and raised both of his arms, a chunk of stone appearing in front of him and hurtling towards Hans.

Hans's form shimmered, and he became insubstantial just before the stone hit him. Kariena gasped as the stone hurtled straight through him, shattering against the far wall. The wizard didn't even have time to look surprised before Hans beheaded him with a single stroke from one of his blades.

The men from the last table charged him all at once, five of them brandishing sabers and screaming for blood. Hans twisted deftly between the first two and stabbed outwards to either side, running them both through the stomach. He tore one sword out and twisted to the ground on one knee, ducking underneath a swing at the level of his shoulders. He let go of his second blade and rammed his shoulder into the man who'd just missed him, standing up and forcing the man backwards, where he stumbled to the ground. Hans ran his sword through one of the man's eyes.

He left that blade there and turned around again, twisting sideways to let the last man's blade run past him. Hans rammed the butt of palm into the top of the man's sword arm, running the saber into the ground, where it stuck and jarred the man's arm. He let go and stumbled just long enough for Hans to draw the sword out and skewer him to the floor.

Kariena looked around the room, heart pounding. She'd had to do a lot of fighting since Hans came into her life. She'd had to kill plenty of people. She was used to this sort of stuff, by now. At least, she should have been. For some reason, the sight of all these… normal-looking men, lying dead and mutilated on the ground around her made her skin crawl. In the fight for Arendelle, they'd been something else. Damned souls, risen again to take away everything that she held dear. This just felt like slaughter.

Hans met her eyes, and he could read it in her face. "You can turn back if you want to," Hans said. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

All at once, Kariena understood why he'd left her the gun when he prepared this. Why he'd expected her to wait across the street. He knew her better than she knew herself, apparently. She watched him as we walked about the chamber, drawing swords coated with viscera from dead men.

"I… this doesn't feel like what the good guys should be doing, Hans," Kariena said, her voice sounding small and meek to herself.

"No," Hans said, the hard glint in his eyes softening somewhat as he regarded her. "No, it's not."

Karina gulped, and nodded. Hans ran up the stairs, and she followed after him.

The landing was in chaos by the time they stepped out onto it. A pair of wizards, wearing robes to match their slain comrade below, as well as a half-dozen mundane fighters, were flowing out of the upstairs rooms to challenge the intruders.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Hans raised a hand and waved it sharply. There were three lanterns in the hallway for light, and all at once they went out. Several of their enemies cried out as they were plunged into darkness.

Kariena was still getting used to Hans's new abilities, and for a moment it surprised her, too. He could make his body insubstantial, for fleeting moments, to walk through walls or let other objects pass through him. He could douse lights, and he could see clearly in any darkness. Finally, part of his new powers seemed to be the gift of supernatural stealth; when he wanted to, Hans could pass through an area perfectly unseen and unheard. They were the abilities of an assassin, Kariena tended to think.

She struggled to get her bearings and do something useful as a chorus of frenzied screams started up in the hallway. Kariena could see nothing, but she knew that Hans moved through them with the lethal grace of a predator, parting the men with their lives with the same ease that a master cutpurse might have parted them with their pocketbooks. There was a bright, brilliant beacon as one of the wizards, a psion, created a long, two-sided axe made of energy.

Kariena could suddenly make out crumpled forms and dark splatters along the walls, and she teleported behind the wizard. She landed in a crouch and slashed at the man's heels. He was ready, and he twisted out of her way, but then Hans was upon him from the other side, and he fell back against the wall as he struggled to ward off a flurry of quick blows. Kariena lunged inwards from the side and swung a knife into the backside of his knee; there was a tug of resistance and then he stumbled forwards, right into a scissor made by Hans's blades.

He crossed them, and the wizard's strangled scream was cut short.

Hans didn't speak as he ducked into one of the chambers beyond the hallway. Kariena heard screams. She gulped again and turned into another, coming into what had once been a bedroom used by the whores. It had been turned into a place of planning, it looked like. There were maps of the city on the walls, marked with extensive annotations. There was only one person in here: a middle-aged woman wearing spectacles. She cowered near the wall, and raised her hands and soon as Kariena entered.

"Please don't hurt me!" She cried. "I'm not like the rest of them, I swear!"

Kariena found herself freezing again.

"They needed a cartographer!" She said, hysterical. "Please, I'm not going to hurt anyone!"

Kariena glanced over her shoulder, where she still heard screaming from the other rooms. In that moment, Kariena made a decision. She wasn't a heartless killer, and the enemy wasn't going to make her one. She stepped aside, leaving the way to the door clear.

"Run. Now."

The woman stared at her, blank-faced.

"NOW!" Kariena screamed at her.

The woman stood and sprinted past her. She yelped when she saw the carnage in the hallway, but kept going, past the corpses and down the stairs. Kariena felt a wave of relief when she heard the footsteps on the floor below.

A few heartbeats later, Hans stepped into the room. Kariena almost gasped again; his clothes were so bloody. His hands were, too. His swords were grisly; one of them had broken near the tip, and now had a ragged edge. He looked around the room quickly, and then turned back to Kariena.

"You let someone go," he said.

"Yes," she replied, standing up and feeling defiance swell in her. "She was innocent. Just a civilian, employed by the cult."

Hans smirked. "Don't worry. I trust you. These maps could be important."

He motioned towards the walls, and then walked over to one. He slid his swords back into their scabbards as he considered it.

"No," he said after a few moments. "No, they're not. They found out where the minister is hiding. Interesting, but not particularly surprising."

He walked over to another. Kariena thought to herself that she should help him, but for some reason she felt shell-shocked. Tonight had not gone… easily for her. A long minute passed as Hans wandered around the room, convincing himself that each of the maps didn't yield pertinent information. Finally, he was satisfied, and he nodded to her.

"Alright. You ready to get out of here?"

She nodded.

He held her gaze for a few moments, face unreadable. Kariena tried not to blush. She didn't want him to think that she was a coward. Or that she wasn't strong enough to be doing this sort of thing. But maybe she was. Hans was willing to do whatever the moment called for, with no regrets. She simply couldn't bring herself to be the same. She didn't have time to think on it, however; Hans was already moving again, walking over to the room's window and opening it. He peered out.

"We can get from this window onto a nearby rooftop. I don't want to leave from the same place that we came in."

He swung himself out and quickly dropped out of sight. Kariena hurried after him.

xxx

That same night, the wizard Octavius stood atop the Tower of London, staring into the twinkling lights of the city as a fell wind tore at the end of his cloak. His arms were crossed, his face impassive, but inside he boiled with fury as he awaited the return of his messenger. The man had departed some time ago; surely, he would be back soon. They were rapidly approaching morning now.

Octavius could have waited in a place that was easier to reach, but part of the trappings of power was the ability to make insubordinates work to gain his audience. After all, Octavius's betters did it to him; the first time that he'd spoken to Novendon, the insufferable man had insisted that they do it at the Edge of Hell, in the temple of the deceased Hades. Never mind that it was difficult and time-consuming for mortals to get there.

"Master wizard," a breathless voice said from behind.

Octavius glanced over his shoulder to see the portly man bent halfway over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. For those without Octavius's gift, getting to the top of the tower's walls required climbing a lot of stairs.

"What news?" He said, turning away again. He almost felt that if he focused on the city hard enough, its secrets would reveal themselves to him. He would find the Avenger with force of will alone.

"We have confirmed the death toll, master wizard."

"And?" Octavius said, a note of annoyance slipping into his voice. He didn't care much for the art of pretense.

"They… they are all dead, master wizard. Whoever attacked the operations house killed them all. It must have been a truly overwhelming force, master wizard. We must have severely underestimated the number of witches and wizards that the enemy can muster, if they were able to so easily dismantle our forces."

"No. It was one man," Octavius said, not bothering to explain to the messenger. The man's stature did not merit an explanation.

The messenger knew better than to argue. "That is… that is a powerful enemy indeed," he said. "Does the Master know of this wizard's existence?"

Despite using the same title for Octavius as the man did for Everdark, the separation between them was made clear by the levels of fear in his voice.

"Yes, the Master does," Octavius said, "although perhaps it was not aware that the threat that we face has grown, of late. This will change that."

Octavius turned back to the man. "Now go. The hour grows late. You are dismissed."

"Of course, master wizard," the messenger said, bowing again. Then he stopped and looked up. He clearly wanted to say something.

"What is it, man?" Octavius snapped. His patience was very thin tonight.

"It's just… master wizard, it is not my place to question the way of things, but when the invasion began, our forces were greatly bolstered by the presence of the armies of the damned. Master wizard, if we wish to take the city, shouldn't we utilize them again? Surely these forces aren't entirely occupied elsewhere?"

Octavius did not immediately reply. The truth was, he too had wondered why the Master hadn't been more judicious with the application of force in the invasion, so far. Rumor among the other wizards was that the God of Darkness wanted the Earth to remain habitable, after its conquest, in order to bequeath the plane to its followers. Spoils of victory.

Octavius was not so sure. He had no illusions about the nature of the Master; he was well aware of its all-consuming appetite for destruction. Octavius had a hard time believing that, when victory was nigh, and the world was within the dark god's grasp, that it would have the restraint to settle for something other than complete victory. Annihilation.

No, Octavius suspected that the reason that the Master had not committed its undead armies to England yet was that it simply hadn't decided that England was worth the trouble yet. From the reports that Octavius had heard from elsewhere in the world, the west had already fallen. So had Africa, and much of the Orient. Perhaps the armies were needed elsewhere now, but once the darkness's position elsewhere was more stable, then they would come to conquer.

Until then, it was Octavius's job to do what he did best. Sow dissent.

"Do not worry yourself about such things," Octavius said cryptically to the man. "All good things come to those who wait."

Without another word, he turned and stepped out into space. He allowed himself the brief thrill of the fall before he called upon his power. A fire sprung up in his chest, magic flowed through his limbs, and he rocketed back into the sky. He cast one glance back at the messenger as he did, allowing himself a flicker of satisfaction from the man's awestruck gaze.

 _This is a world in which you could not possibly ever matter, my friend,_ Octavius thought to himself. _Only the strong will survive the coming storm._


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

 _Souls. A thousand tiny, phantom strings, little webs of gossamer that bind together, bring us together. I am the master at the harp, the skilled one who will tease out beautiful music from it all._

 _Mender Hythirion_

* * *

A Battlefield

in Central Europe,

October 5th, 56 AD

Mender Hythirion reached into the aether. Her eyes were closed, but the witch allowed herself a small measure of satisfaction when she heard a few gasps from the surrounding soldiers. They never did grow accustomed to her abilities. In Hythirion's mind's eye, there was an explosion of light. For a few seconds, it was an indiscernible mass, but then her soul realigned, and the souls separated into thousands of tiny strands in the air around her. The fabric of life laid bare for her to see. It was a rare and wonderful gift, one that Hythirion was, to her knowledge, the first mortal to ever possess.

The Greek arcanists knew of what the Celestians had called the _Versentia_ – the archmages – and the Greeks were proud to say that they knew more about them then the Celestians ever had. For example, they knew that the Presider had never been anything but a mundane wizard; the foolish Celestian scholars had merely wished for the wizards that they considered to be the pinnacle of magic to be the ones blessed by the gods. The Celestians hadn't even known about the Mender.

The Mender, gifted with the ability to see beyond the trappings of ordinary men, and weave the strands together. Hythirion knew that she was something special, something that would come only once an age.

A flicker of annoyance turned the corner of Hythirion's lips downwards. Of course, ordinary minds could not see her potential. So they left her to perform mundane, even menial tasks, for the quotidian evil of war.

Hythirion reached out and began to draw the world together. In her mind's eye, she saw the place that the generals wanted to reach; a young river, one caused by the barbarian men of the north that stripped away the land's trees to feed their iron-forges and their ceaseless hunger for industry. She saw its uncertain bends, wending their way among the parched grassland that should not be at the heart of the forest. She found the soul of the world – its _leyline_ – and touched it.

Hythirion was flooded with sensation. Life and death, beauty and hideousness. The world's sublime grace and the primordium that it kept in check. The bestial nature of the wild and also the utter peace that one could only find in wooded places. Gaea spoke to her, a deep and warm sensation that seemed to rumble just beyond audibility. It did not hate the _celieres,_ though they were unnatural, for Hythirion was respectful, and always promised that one day she would let go of the portals and then the world would be back to the way it was before.

It didn't hurt that the Greeks were bent on destroying the men of Gaul, these terrible destroyers.

Hythirion held her own soul, and she touched the Worldsoul, for a few moments basking in quiet reverence. Then she brought them together and Mended them. The warmth in Hythirion's chest erupted into a fire, and then went out, all at once, leaving her feeling cold. She heard another round of gasps from the soldiers as they saw the portal spring to life in the air in front of them. She did not open her eyes for several seconds, trying to hold on to the feeling of infinity as it slowly drained from her.

"Thank you, Mender Hythirion," came the rough voice of a soldier.

She opened her eyes halfway and gazed upon the commander serenely. "Do not thank me, for our quest pleases the Worldsoul, and that is reason enough to do it, commander."

He inclined his head to her, and then turned and began to bark orders to his hoplites. Several of them drew their weapons and charged into the rift at his command, instantly transported leagues away to their destination.

Hythirion turned, and stopped herself, frowning as she saw a faint… ripple, in the air. Something off, not quite right about a place near where the lines of army tents began. She watched it uneventfully for a few seconds until she became convinced that it was a trick of her eyes, and then she started to walk back into the camp.

Odette Marie Novare stood in exactly that spot, excited but frustrated. Twice now in these visions, the Mender Hythirion had sensed her, somehow. She'd looked directly at her, seeming to make eye contact, even! It was exciting, but also frustrating, because Odette couldn't figure out what she was doing to let Hythirion sense her. Maybe it wasn't something _Odette_ was doing in the first place. Elsa hadn't ever mentioned Ashanerat, or anyone from Celestus, seeming to notice her before, however, so Odette was inclined to think that she'd lucked into something big.

If only she could figure out how to use it.

Odette followed along behind the witch, watching the hem of her crimson robe swish along the trampled grass of the camp's footprint. Hythirion would be headed back to the combine of tents that she shared with the other wizards in the army. Odette was growing familiar with the way that the camp was arranged, by now; this was her fifth visit to the past, each of them seeming to take place over a handful of days in which the army was camped in a broad plain just south of an expansive forest that gave refuge to their enemy.

Odette had tried to find some historical record of a Grecian army locked in a struggle with forces of Gaul somewhere in Southern France at some point during the Hellenistic period, but the accounts were spare and poorly detailed. Of course, there didn't seem to be any record of an entire class of wizards being an important part of Greek society, either. The winds of time had eroded much.

Odette realized, with some surprise, that Hythirion walked past the row of three tents, all neatly arranged with each other, that housed the wizards. Odette picked up her pace to follow as the ancient witch made her way through the street-like rows, heading towards the center of camp.

 _She's headed towards the commander's tent,_ Odette realized with no small amount of excitement. So far, Odette hadn't learned anything about the commander other than what she'd gleaned from secondhand conversation. Now it seemed that she might get to learn about them firsthand.

Hythirion reached the command tent, a grander structure than the ones around it, dyed a deep forest green, a similar shade to the uniforms of the soldiers. It would have been no small feat to color so much sheepskin. Hythirion's presence didn't seem to surprise the guards; they nodded to her, and then turned to announce her presence to the commander. Momentarily, another voice called back to bid her enter.

Hythirion stepped inside.

Odette hurried forwards and slipped in under the falling flap of the tent, though she was pretty sure that it would pass right through her anyway, had she let it hit her. Inside the space seemed less cavernous than the size of the tent would indicate, in part due to the large round table in the center of the room. Rather than being set with maps and battle plans, like Odette might have expected, it was piled with unprepared food. Whole slaughtered game, dried fruits and vegetables, and big chestnuts lay upon the table, though they were no longer fresh.

Odette felt an involuntary surge of nausea as she looked at the flies buzzing around the dead game. Clearly, all the food had been left here for a few days, probably as long as the army had been camped here. For the first time, Odette realized that although she could see and hear perfectly in the vision, she could not smell anything, and for that she was grateful.

 _What on earth is all this? An offering to the gods?_

A tall man, younger and handsomer than she'd expected him to be, though he was neither a boy nor beautiful, stepped around the table and crossed the room to Hythirion, a broad grin on his face. He was lean, and muscular, with deeply olive skin and a thick black beard to complement his shoulder-length hair. He wore a thin copper band around his forehead, not unlike the golden circlet that Anna wore to signify her stature.

"Ah. Hythirion. Welcome," the man said, reaching out and clasping each of her shoulders for a moment. Then he indicated past the table that dominated the center of the tent, to set of upholstered stools. "Please, sit."

"Thank you, Arixes," the witch said, inclining her head slightly and walking over to sit at one of them.

Odette watched as Arixes poured two glasses of wine and walked over with them. Was this… romantic? Wine didn't seem like the sort of drink to share with someone on a professional level. Then again, Odette knew that in general, people used to drink substantially more than they did in modern times.

Arixes handed one glass to Hythirion and then sat across from her.

"Tell me about your son," Hythirion said.

For a moment, Odette was sure that she'd misheard the woman. Arixes looked like he was Odette's age, maybe even younger. Yet he replied.

"He is very bright," Arixes said, fondness in his voice. "Very clever. Already he knows enough to speak in short sentences. Already he begins to learn his letters."

"That is good," Hythirion said.

"More, he knows things that no young boy should know," Arixes said. "When he hears the call of the morning birds, he whistles back, and they reply to him. Madurna says that she has seen him commune with dogs, as well. He is not afraid of fire. Several times we have had to stop him from touching a candle's flame. He walks further and faster and more eagerly than other boys his age."

Odette turned to Hythirion and saw that the woman's face was contemplative.

"You want to know if the boy has magic," she said.

Arixes nodded vigorously. "I believe that he has been gifted by the gods. I need only your confirmation, Hythirion."

Odette was fascinated. In some ways, these peoples' understanding of magic seemed so advanced, relative to what they knew, and in other, so strange and primitive. She'd also never considered that in a society where magic was more completely understood, identifying wizardry in children was probably a practice of magic unto itself.

"You seek my recognition of your child's powers, Arixes, or you wish for me to encourage them?" Hythirion asked, raising an eyebrow as she sipped at the glass.

Arixes bristled, but quickly recovered and smiled again. "Of course, Hythirion, Madurna and I ask only for you to recognize abilities that are already present. We have no intention of blaspheming the gods."

Hythirion raised her chin slightly, so that her eyes cast downwards as she considered Arixes. "Because my gift comes also with the burden of using it wisely, Arixes. To gift the undeserving with magic is not only blasphemy, it is a disruption of the natural way of things."

Odette felt a powerful, dawning realization. She glanced down at her own hands with awe. _I can make people into wizards?_

"Of course, Hythirion. Of course." Arixes was discomfited. He was bothered by Hythirion's insinuations. But Odette didn't hear their words as they continued their conversation, first because she was too focused on the information she had just learned, and then because the vision was fading away around her, slowly returning to oblivion as she woke up.

Odette Marie Novare sat up gasping, clutching the bedspread to her chest. Elsa continued to snore softly, a light whistle beside her. Odette threw herself out of bed and ran to the room's desk, nearly knocking over the pot of ink as she struggled to get the pen in hand. She twisted a blank sheet of parchment towards herself and wrote, in case she forget by the morning: _I CAN TURN PEOPLE INTO WIZARDS._

xxx

Anna, Kariena, and Hans all stood before Sir Robert Peel, on the other side of a small table in the kitchen of the safehouse he was being kept in, now different from the one where they'd met him, in another affluent neighborhood practically on the other side of the city. This one was ever-so-slightly poorer, which Anna hoped would throw Everdark's servants off the trail. Hans was more pessimistic, but Anna thought that he was always rather pessimistic.

"Anyway, minister," Anna continued, making her way back to the point after a long interruption in which Kariena and Peel had argued about whether Americans or the British had a more proper way of spelling, "that's our recommendations for how best to speak to Parliament about the nature of the threat."

"Well, yes, that's all well and good," Peel said, "but you must understand the nature of our politics. My party was required to expend much of its political capital passing the income tax, and we lost many seats during the last election. My governing caucus includes more progressives than I would like, and I'm not sure that I can convince those people to vote for anything that reeks of sacrificing power to a monarch. These are the very people that are reducing Victoria to a figurehead."

Hans frowned and placed his hands on the table. He glanced towards the door as a pair of servants walked into the room bearing trays of tea foods.

"Why must democracy be so damned inefficient?" He mused.

"You're telling me," Peel replied, sighing as he accepted a cup of tea from one of the house's servants. "And I'm unlikely to have an easy time even taking a motion to the floor in my first reappearance at Parliament. They'll all want to make a fuss out of my disappearance."

"Can you even be sure that a majority of the members are going to show?" Kariena asked. "I mean, the city's on the verge of a panic here."

Peel's lined face scrunched further. "We have to hope that they do," he ruminated softly. "Without them, we can do nothing."

Anna sighed. "Well, I suppose that there's nothing left to do but get this over with, huh?"

The others nodded, one by one.

"Well, then let's do it," she said.

xxx

Hans followed a few feet behind the rest of the entourage as they approached the Palace of Westminster. He scanned the sizeable crowd, keeping an eye out for anyone with a suspicious look about them. He knew that it was unlikely that the Parliament building would be the target of a full-scale attack just a few short days after one of Everdark's operations centers in the city was destroyed, but there was still ample room for subterfuge and covert attacks.

Kariena fell back a few steps alongside him.

"There's a young man fifteen yards to your right who's been following us for a little while. It looks pretty natural. Either he's good, or it's a coincidence."

Hans kept his gaze forwards. "What does he look like?" He asked, keeping his voice conversational and even. Low, but not too low.

"Red hair. Irish-looking. Shorter than you. Dark coat," Kariena said, before smoothly speeding back up to re-merge with the rest of them.

Hans was surprised by the clear press of people on the approach to the palace. He would have expected the members of Parliament to try to arrive quietly, without pomp or circumstance. That's what he would have done if the city was under invasion from a hidden foreign threat, and people's homes were blowing up in broad daylight.

But then again, he supposed that he'd never been well-disposed for politics.

When they passed into the building proper, Hans nodded to the others and let Kariena lead them off to where Peel would be addressing the members. On some level, he worried about what would happen if they were attacked, but he knew that Kariena was one of the most skilled and capable fighters that he'd ever met. Hell, they'd probably be safer with her than they would be with him.

He turned and wandered in no particular direction, reaching into his jacket and removing a box of cigarettes, the thin kind that were growing in popularity in England and the States. He'd always thought they were sort of feminine-looking, but then again, he didn't normally smoke. He just needed an excuse to be alone in the lobby of the building, people-watching. So he shook a cigarette out and leaned back against the far wall of the lobby, looking towards the entrance as he lit it and rested it between his teeth.

Less than a minute passed before the red-haired man walked inside. He was with a group of men and women, all middle-aged or older, probably the entourage of one of the members. But he wasn't speaking to any of them, and when they turned to the right, he moved just a moment too slow. Less fluidly than the others. So he wasn't with them. Sure enough, he fell behind them now, so as not to arouse their confusion when he continued to walk with them.

Hans blew a slow stream of smoke into the air.

 _Who are you, kid?_

His attention was drawn away for a moment when an older man settled in beside Hans and lit a cigar of his own, a big round one – the kind that Hans's father used to smoke.

"Seems to me that I see less and less of these, these days," the man said, indicating towards his cigar. "All the young fellows I see choose those slim little things."

Hans shrugged. "You know, I mostly smoke cigars myself, but the minister had some sponsors give him a few free boxes, and he gave them out to the staff. So here I am."

That was true, actually; it was where Hans had gotten these.

"Oh? You work for Sir Peel?" The man said, turning more fully towards Hans, voice growing interested.

Hans wondered if he'd said too much. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, well, I'm just very curious about what he'll be saying," the man said. "I mean, there's all this talk of fear, and of an outside threat, but frankly, I haven't seen anything that the Irish haven't been trying to do to us for the better part of the last century! I think it's all political talk, just conniving men trying to shore up their base of power."

The man seemed to have forgotten that he was speaking to an employee of Peel's, and he stopped himself. "Oh. I'm sorry, I meant you no offense, son."

Hans shook his head, but he removed his cigarette from his mouth and shook it out before flinging it into a nearby trashcan. "None taken, sir. It's just a job. But if you don't mind, I actually should be getting back to him."

"Oh! Of course," the man said, waving nonchalantly as Hans walked away.

He tried to pick up track of the red-haired man again, but after thirty seconds or so of search, he decided that it would look suspicious to keep mulling about the foyer, and in any case the man was probably already long gone from it, so Hans walked off to the box where he knew the rest of his own entourage was waiting.

Moments later, a portly man with a booming voice called out from the mouth of the foyer that the prime minister was going to begin speaking shortly.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

 _Fear is the most powerful tool that I know to spur a man to action._

 _Agnarr Siguror_

* * *

London,

England

December 15th, 1843

Sir Robert Peel looked small to Hans, standing at a tall lectern in the center of the floor, flanked on both sides by grand podiums, filled with the British members of parliament. Hans sat at the back of the great vault, just behind one of the lecterns and beside one of the several doors that let in. He didn't listen to Peel's reedy voice as the man began to speak; he'd heard the speech already. It wasn't anything new; really just begging the MPs to vote to approve emergency powers to himself so that he could hand those same powers over to Anna. Hans didn't expect it to go particularly well, both because he expected the MPs to have an unfavorable view of giving up their power, and because he didn't expect the entire affair to go uninterrupted.

Hans kept his gaze roaming about the chamber, keeping an eye out for any sign that someone might be a threat. He tried to pick up track of the red-haired man that he'd noticed in the lobby, but he was nowhere to be found. It irritated Hans to have been given the slip so successfully, but he had a feeling that he hadn't seen the last of the man. He stopped when he met eyes with Kariena, sitting far closer to the floor on the other side of the room, serving a similar purpose. She smiled brightly at him. He smirked and nodded slightly, amused by her ability to remain so consistently cheery.

Or maybe it was jealousy. Whatever.

A few more minutes passed, during which the members around Hans began to grow more restless, whispering quietly around him. He couldn't pick out their words, but the voices were discontented. Hans crossed his arms and leaned back. You could lead a person to the truth, but you couldn't make them believe it.

Peel was fading down below; the whispers had picked up in intensity and volume, and now some members were speaking outright. It was untraditional and rude to interrupt a speaker on the floor, and first he stuttered slightly, and then he fell silent for a few moments. In the empty space a man near Hans stood up and shouted.

"This is a bloody ploy! Only the damnedest of fools would grant such a man emergency powers!" He swept a disdainful hand towards Peel. "He hates democracy, Peel does! Wants all the power for himself!"

Peel started to reply, to defend himself, but was almost immediately shouted down by an erupting chorus of discontent as a dozen, then two dozen, then more of the members stood and began to shout as well. Hans sighed and scratched at his chin. He turned to meet eyes with Anna, who stood at the back of the room on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

 _Well, we tried,_ Hans thought to himself glumly as he listened to a crowd of angry geriatric men yell at each other. _But I suppose we'll have to leave the English to solve these problems themselves._

A moment later, the windows behind Hans exploded inwards, showering the floor with tinkling glass. Hans instinctively ducked to the ground, rolling underneath one of the wide lecterns that the members sat behind, and turned to look back towards the breach. There were screams and the sound of gunfire as a dozen or so men wearing matte-black armor leveled rifles and began to shoot. Hans shut out the shouting and the screams of pain as he focused on the men, drawing his concealed pistols and trying to pick out a leader.

 _There,_ he thought, noticing that one of the armored men wasn't shooting, but rather moving around the back of the room, heading towards a path that would lead him across the chamber. Hans slid out from underneath the lectern and ran in a crouch behind the one above him, stepping over fallen corpses as he went. Hans hoped briefly that Peel would have had the sense to try to hide himself rather than do something stupid like running.

Hans reached an aisle where there was a split between the terraced lecterns and stepped into it, firing three shots at the man moving along the back of the room. Hans hit him all three times, in the head, crumpling the plate armor and sending him to a heap on the ground. Hans started to charge up the stairs, shooting at the nearest enemies as he did. One noticed and started to turn before a pair of bullets took them in the chest and sent them to the floor as well. Hans had spent one pistol by the time he reached the back row, and he dropped it and passed his remaining gun to his right hand, shooting one-handed with arm outstretched while he reached with his other to his waistband and drew out a compact knife.

The nearest man still standing dropped his rifle and drew a long, curved blade, turning and charging at Hans. Hans tossed aside his second pistol, now empty, and twisted his knife around, up-side down. He stepped sideways and went incorporeal, watching as the man's sword swept harmlessly through his form as if it were made of shadow. The man's momentum carried him straight through Hans's shadowy form, until Hans twisted his arm around and phased back in just in time for the man's head to plow right into his knife.

Hans swung his knife back around, snapping the man's neck and twisting his body ungracefully to the floor in the process. His sword fell out of his dead hands and clattered onto the hardwood right in front of Hans, who kicked at its hilt and sent it tumbling into the air, where he caught it. The rest of the men were moving into the crowds, reloading their rifles.

Hans hazarded a glance to the side and saw that Kariena was surprisingly close, a few rows down fighting one of the black-armored men. Hans turned to the side and jumped, clearing one of the rows and landing on the next lectern down, bringing his longsword down on the top of one of the man's heads. the blade shattered, jarring his arms, but the man collapsed to his knees. Hans hopped off of the desk into the row itself and tilted the dazed man's head back, exposing an area near the base of his neck. Hans tore his knife through the man's throat and dropped him to the ground.

He and Kariena weren't getting through them fast enough. Long seconds had passed since the bloodshed began, and the assailants weren't turning to fight them. Instead, they were moving into the crowd, switching to swords once their rifles were spent and attacking the civilians. Hans started to dash towards the nearest enemy again when the doors to the chamber burst open and a flight of guards poured into the chamber. Hans glanced back into the heart of the chamber and was relieved to see that the members of parliament were still huddled on the ground. As long as they stayed down, the guards could shoot.

More gunfire joined the chorus.

Hans reached the next man, who was turned aside, occupied by stabbing a screaming, prone MP, and tackled him to the floor. They hit roughly, and the black form instantly reached for its waist and drew a long knife out of its scabbard. The man rolled sideways with a surprising amount of strength, forcing Hans off of him before he turned and plunged the knife towards Hans.

He caught the man's arm, straining for a few heartbeats in this feat of strength, before he managed to turn the blade to the ground and fling himself back to his feet. The knife bit deep into the floor and became stuck, but the man was smart enough not to hold onto it. He twisted, and suddenly a lethal slash from Hans became a glancing blow, clanging uselessly on the man's breastplate. He headbutted Hans backwards and pulled himself back to his feet, and then charged Hans unarmed.

Hans recovered and widened his stance to intercept the man. His feet slid back several feet when they collided. Instantly the man tried to shift to grapple Hans, and then Hans phased through him. The man stumbled forwards onto his knees, and Hans whipped back around and kicked him into the floor. He glanced around for a weapon while the man struggled underneath his feet, but he couldn't seem to find one.

"Catch!" Kariena's voice suddenly cut through the din.

Hans glanced up and saw a gleaming blade tumbling through the air towards him. He reached out and caught it by the hilt, then twisted it and rammed it down into the space between the man's helm and his breastplate. His body abruptly stopped flailing.

Hans looked up again and tried to count the remaining hostiles, but to his surprise, the only people standing up in the heart of the chamber were him and Kariena. The guards at the head of the chamber still had their rifles raised, and they began to disperse into the room, tensely looking down aisles and taking in the extent of the carnage.

Hans glanced to the far end of the chamber, a sudden spike of alarm tugging at his chest, but it was quelled when he saw an ashen, shaken-looking Anna stand up from where she'd been hiding. She turned and nodded to Kariena and Hans. He trotted down one of the aisles to the floor now, walking over to the podium which Peel had been huddled behind. Hans stepped onto the little raised platform it sat upon and around the side of the lectern and let out a held breath.

Peel sat with his back to the dark wood, arms around his legs. He was terrified, mumbling incoherently to himself.

Hans found Kariena's gaze and nodded to her, mouthing _he's alive._ She seemed to let out a breath herself.

Movement played in the corner of Hans's eye, and he turned to see a wizard alight upon the floor at the edge of the chamber where the windows had been shattered by the first assailants. Something was… strange about him, aside from the ability to fly – the air seemed to warp in strange ways in the space around him, little multicolored fragments of light bending away from him. One of the guards shouted upon noticing the wizard and charged towards him.

The man bounded across the distance between himself and the wizard and was then suddenly, horribly incinerated when he reached the threshold at the edge of the warped light. Little wispy embers trailed down to the floor, and Hans wished that he still had a gun with a few bullets left.

The wizard looked around the room, and his eyes settled on Hans.

"Ah. Hans Westergaard. The prodigal son of Hades, ever the thorn in our side. I have been told that you've recently acquired some new abilities."

The man held a long polearm, the kind that would be easiest to fight with while airborne, and indeed, as he spoke, he began to hover a foot off of the ground.

"I am Octavius, and I will be your unmaker, Avenger. Best me if you can."

Octavius began to hurtle towards Hans at speed, his aura incinerating lecterns and unfortunate souls too close to his path as he went. Hans had barely a heartbeat to think before he was set ablaze in the same manner.

He extended a hand and called upon his magic. There was a blaze in his chest, and then a sudden cold, and the room was cast into pitch-darkness. He rolled to the side, and there was a burst of flame and sparks illuminating Octavius as he hit the ground where Hans had been moments before. Then the room fell into blackness again.

Hans had lost hold of his sword during the tumble, and once again, he had no weapon as he prowled around the empty space in the center of the floor. His magic-enhanced eyes tracked Octavius as he whirled about in the center of the chamber, growling.

"You coward! You think the darkness can hide you?"

Hans slipped back into one of the aisles. He looked around, trying to catch sight of Kariena, but she was gone. Nowhere to be found. Maybe she was hiding underneath one of the desks, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Maybe she was near Elsa, ready to protect the empress. Either way, he couldn't count on her to arm him again. He glanced down at the corpse of one of the black-armored assailants. The man's sword was still strapped to his back, in its scabbard. He'd died before he finished with his rifle, apparently.

"Show yourself!" Octavius shouted, footsteps loud as he walked in a ring around the floor. "Or else I'll start killing these people!"

 _Well, you'd probably start doing that at some point regardless,_ Hans thought to himself as he deftly undid the pair of buckles that strapped the fallen man's scabbard to his back and removed the entire thing from the body. It was an action that would have made noise, were Hans not the Avenger, but for him, everything was silent. He kept the scabbard as he started to walk back down to the center of the room.

Octavius reached the space where the first desks began, and started to walk towards them, seeming to enjoy the whimpers of fear from cowering men as his aura began to eat the wood, sending up little motes of flame. Hans approached from a three-quarters angle, watching the grin on the man's face as he slowly put one foot after another. Then he abruptly surged forwards, and there was a scream as one man was consumed by flames, and frantic scrambling as several other tried to get away.

"That's enough." Kariena's voice came from the very center of the room, not far away from where Octavius stood.

Instantly, Hans knew that she was creating a diversion for him, but he wished that she wouldn't have crept so close to Octavius before she decided to do it. _Stay safe,_ he thought to himself as he turned into one of the ring-aisles that led around the room and took him behind Octavius. The wizard had turned now to face Kariena, and Hans could see wariness in his posture as he tried to pick out her form in the shadow.

"Ah. Yes. I was told that there would be a girl, as well, a powerful witch with the ability to teleport." He started towards her, holding his polearm out like a ward against that which he couldn't see. "Why don't you try to appear beside me and slit my throat, girl? Why don't you see what good it would do?"

Based on the confidence in Octavius's voice, Hans hoped that she didn't take him up on the offer.

He stepped up onto a desk just beside the one that had been incinerated by Octavius, trying not to smell the reek of charred death that lay beside him in scattered ashes.

 _There's got to be a way through that aura,_ Hans thought to himself. _It seems like a consumptive power. Something like that_ must _take energy to maintain. Doesn't it?"_

Abruptly, Octavius seemed to find his confidence, screaming and charging the center of the chamber. Kariena backed up several steps and then teleported further away, appearing at the edge of the floor some twenty feet away while he charged past her. Octavius brandished about with his polearm, but came into contact with nothing; growing frustrated, he swore and took to the skies again, rising several feet off of the ground. Hans glanced up and noticed for the first time a large chandelier hanging from the roof, easily eight feet in diameter and wrought of a sturdy-looking metal.

As Hans watched him, he made a decision. He turned and ran back though the chamber, expertly picking his way around the huddled bodies, some of them using the darkness to crawl towards the doorway. He reached the back of the room and looked around, finding Anna and rushing over to kneel beside her.

"Anna. I need the pistol that you carry in your purse." He held the sword's scabbard under one arm as Anna fumbled around with her bag for a moment and then fished out a small, two-shot concealed pistol. She shoved it into his hand.

"Here."

"Also, get the hell out of here," Hans said, glancing up at the door. It was a rectangle of brilliant light, letting in the unrefined daylight from the outdoors, which seemed to be unable or unwilling to pierce the magical darkness that Hans had created.

Anna nodded, and started to shuffle along the floor in that direction, careful not to create much noise and alert Octavius to her position. Hans held the gun up beside his head and bounded back across the room to the floor, deliberately allowing himself to make noise, and a lot of it. Octavius spun around from the chase that Kariena had been leading him on and smiled.

"Ah. So Hans has decided against cowardice, then." He still floated several feet off of the ground, and now he began to fly towards the source of Hans's noise, thrashing about the ground beneath him with his halberd.

"I'm right here, Octavius," Hans said, glancing up as he worked himself closer to the center of the chamber, a few feet away from the footprint of the chandelier. "Come and get me."

The wizard grinned again and sped up, hurtling towards Hans. He reached up and fired both shots at the chain suspending the chandelier. The first bullet missed, but the second one struck true, and there was a loud _snap._ The giant thing hurtled down from the vaulted ceiling and hit Octavius's aura, off-center to one side. There was an explosion of sparks and flame, and Octavius roared and was thrown to the ground. He began to skid towards Hans, who leapt away. Hans hit the ground roughly and rolled, watching the wizard tumble into a heap beside the first row of desks before the floor. A mangled twist of metal lay gutted in a trail from him to the place where the impact had happened.

Hans didn't wait. He dashed across the space towards the crumpled form and gripped his sword in both hands after using one to loosen the scabbard. He thrust the blade outwards as he came close, and the scabbard launched across the intervening space, charring but not disintegrating as it passed through the aura. Hans barely had time to appreciate that his plan had worked as he phased out and tried to pass through the barrier.

He felt a sudden, intense heat, and instantly stuttered back into the material plane, feeling scorched, but he was alive. Octavius had started to roll over, and he cried out before Hans beheaded him with one clean sweep of the blade.

And then, the room was quiet. The only thing that Hans could hear was his own breathing for several seconds. He extended a hand and returned the light to the chamber, the magical darkness clearing away as if a sudden dawn had come. Hans looked around, at the shattered, scorched desks, and the dozens of corpses. This had been a bloodbath.

Shakily, Sir Robert Peel stood up from behind his podium and looked around.

"Is it done, then?" He asked. "Are they gone?"

Hans nodded. "For now," he said.

xxx

Anna watched Hans and Kariena leave, walking out of the chamber into the foyer beyond. They both looked exhausted, and Anna felt a pang of guilt. Maybe she should have waited to try to make a play for England until Elsa and Odette were also available. This certainly would have been easier with a team of four powerful wizards than with two.

To her surprise, she heard the minister begin to speak below, and she glanced down to watch.

"To those of you who survived, I offer you congratulations. You were luckier than many. You can see that we do not speak of the threat that we face in abstraction. Were it not for our friends from the Unified Empire in this room today, we would be dead to a man. That is not an exaggeration."

Anna's eyes widened. Was Peel actually trying to spin this to their advantage? It seemed like it.

"You speak of making plays for political power, when you fail to see that there is no power left for men. What use would I have for petty dominion over my fellows when we face such an enemy? The Unified Empire is our only hope, gentlemen."

It looked as if Peel might have wanted to say more, but he seemed to deflate, slightly, and some of the resolve left his voice. He seemed defeated.

"I ask only that you vote for our survival. Not for yourselves."

Not a single man questioned whether the vote should be postponed, given the violence. Anna realized, from the men who were now crawling to their feet and gazing around the room with frightened eyes, that they still had a majority. They could still grant Peel emergency powers today.

Anna felt a swell of equal parts surprise and hope when every single man that remained voted in the affirmative. Peel would be given the authority to craft an alliance with the Unified Empire, for the survival of Her Majesty and all her subjects.

The End

of Arc Seven

of Immortal


	14. Interlude - Odette

Author's Note:

Thanks for sticking with us through Arc Seven of the TLD saga! As you probably all know by now, the end of an arc means a short story! The next one on the docket is sort of a logical successor to _Love Letter_ , my most popular short story to date. It's another Elsa-Odette romance, titled _Union._ This one will occur after the events of Arc Seven, and it launches next Monday, December 3rd.

I'm pretty excited to share it with you all, so get ready! :)

xxx

Interlude – Odette

 _Sometimes, I wonder what mother and father would think about all this, were they still alive to see it. Would they be proud of what we've built?_

 _Elsa's diary_

* * *

The Imperial Palace,

Arendelle

December 19th, 1843

Odette leaned over the recumbent young man from her position seated on the side of his bed. His eyes were closed, his breathing even but shallow. Odette returned the damp cloth to its basin and placed her hand against his forehead, looking inside herself to see the magic. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. There was light. A few thin strands of light in the room; one connecting herself and the man, and one more for each of them, leading off into the ground. The bond between them, weak and tenuous. She didn't know this injured soldier. A stronger bond, between herself and the earth. She was young, and healthy. The energy which bound her to the earth was strong. Thin, but not as thin as the bond between them, the one between the man and the earth. He was injured, and without Odette's help, he would probably expire, eventually.

She wasn't in the practice of healing everyone who came through Arendelle's hospitals; for one, there were far too many for Odette to help, and secondly, there were more effective uses of her time. Odette absently remembered words that the Watcher had spoken to her once. _Many who have walked your path in ages past have been driven mad dwelling on the lives of those who they could not save._ Odette used to feel more guilt about the people who would die while she held the power to save them. But she had come to realize that it was a fool's game, trying to save them all.

This man, however, was something different. Odette reached out with her mind's eye and touched the string binding them together. She used to actually reach out to physically tug at the threads she saw, but as her skill with her powers grew, she found that it wasn't necessary. She still felt the sensation of the world, something vast and great, just beyond the edge of her awareness. She felt the warmness that accompanied the power. Odette took a deep breath, drawing the power into herself. She began to glow, emitting soft little trails of golden light.

In fact, this business with the gossamer strands of light that bound things together was relatively new to her. Odette had healed her mother without really understanding what she was doing since she five or six, and even after spending several years afterwards without using her abilities, she'd been able to call upon the same instincts to save Elsa's life after her battle with Namar Sadden. For some time after that, even, she hadn't seen the truth of the world. She was a blind woman in a room full of exciting things, and she only knew the way to one of them. It wasn't until relatively recently, when she'd Mended Ceristo Siguror's locket and learned the truth about how Hythirion had created wargates, that she'd learned more about her powers.

Hythirion was remarkably helpful, Odette mused to herself as she let the energy flow from herself into the bond that connected her to the soldier. The ancient Mender had, in several of Odette's visions, explained at length the process that she used to access some of her abilities. She explained what it was like to view the Worldsoul, and the bonds that connected all life. Without her explanation, Odette would not have seen the leylines of the world, great and powerful deposits of magic that bound the elements of the earth together.

Odette let out a held breath, golden light streaming from her and flowing across an invisible thread into the fallen man's body.

 _It's almost as if she knows, somehow,_ Odette thought to herself. It was almost _too_ helpful, almost as if the ancient Mender was aware that she was leaving behind teachings to her successor. Combined with the way that Hythirion seemed to look _at_ her sometimes, during the visions, gave Odette much to wonder about.

The man's breathing deepened, and the pair of bullet wounds in the man's abdomen began to reknit themselves. Odette tended to think of all the men who served the Unified Empire abroad as soldiers, but really it wasn't exactly appropriate to think of this man as one. He was a spy, an agent of the Empire who until recently had been in sub-Saharan Africa, doing his best to covertly sabotage Everdark's advance there. His eyelids fluttered, and then flickered open. He looked surprised.

For a moment, Odette considered reaching out for his other bond, the one that connected him to the earth. It was suddenly much stronger, now thick and vibrant like her own. Odette knew that this man wasn't a wizard, and part of her wanted to try to awaken him. But she restrained herself.

Ever since she'd learned from Hythirion's indirect commentary that Menders might be able to turn ordinary people into wizards, she'd done her best to try to replicate that in most of the ordinary people that she was with long enough to reach into the aether. Unsurprisingly, it hadn't worked yet. Odette figured that if it was easy, she'd probably have figured out how to do it without being told. She'd tried to bring on another vision with Ceristo's locket, hoping to be lucky enough to end up in one where Hythirion demonstrated or at least explained this power, but in the two nights since she hadn't been able to enter a vision. She and Elsa still didn't know if there was a way to encourage them to come or not.

"Where am I?" The man asked, brow furrowed. Odette stepped away from the bed and turned back around to sit in a chair beside the man's head.

"Back in Arendelle," she said soothingly, reaching to the wall and pulling a cord that would ring a bell and alert the others that he'd awoken. "You had quite the brush with danger there."

The man tried to sit up, and then seemed to get dizzy, and he slumped down again.

"I was shot."

"Twice," Odette agreed. "From what I understand, you must have had quite the return journey."

The man frowned, then gingerly palpated at his abdomen. His eyes widened when he found that his wounds were gone.

"You're her," he said, looking up with wonder. "The one who can heal people. I've heard of you before."

Odette nodded. "I am. Now, Mr. Duvier, we have your family outside. I'm sure you'll be very excited to see them."

The man looked towards the door. "They're here?"

Odette nodded. "Yes, Mr. Duvier. I'm going to step out now. I should mention to you, however, that after you've had some time with your family, some people from the Empire are going to want to speak to you about what you managed to learn in Africa."

The man nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Have a nice day, Mr. Duvier," Odette said as she excused herself from the chamber.

Elsa stepped away from the wall outside the room and fell into step beside Odette. They turned out of the hallway onto a set of switchback stairs that led them down the side of the hospital building.

"They're back," she said, grinning.

Odette's brain whirled for a moment. "You mean Anna and Hans and Kariena?"

"Yes!" Elsa said, lacing an arm through Odette's. "And what's more, they actually did it! There are still some bureaucratic technicalities to work through, but for all intents and purposes, Great Britain is now part of the Unified Empire. They even sent some administrative people back with Anna and the others."

"That's fantastic!" Odette said, feeling her spirits soar. They'd begun to worry about Anna and Hans and Kariena; they hadn't had an update from them in a fair bit of time, now. But this was really great news. They were doing it. They really were building something cohesive out of all of this.

"Are we going to meet them now?" Odette asked.

"You bet we are," Elsa said. "Oh, uh, how'd that go?"

She gestured behind them, towards the hospital room they'd left behind.

"Well," Odette said. "He healed up fine."

"Did you try it?" Elsa asked.

"No," Odette said, shaking her head. She didn't need to ask what Elsa meant. "I don't even really know how to _start_ trying to awaken magic in someone. I'm sick of disappointing myself."

She'd already spent a good many hours trying to luck her way into this new knack, but reality was often disappointing, and it seemed that it wasn't going to be as easy to do as Odette had hoped. So she'd decided to hold out for new information.

"Have you thought that maybe Hythirion was bluffing?" Elsa asked, stepping up into the coach that would lead them to the train station downtown. It had taken a herculean effort on the part of the Unified Empire's engineers to get Arendelle's railways working again on such short notice, but Elsa had made it a top priority for them. "You know, I was thinking that maybe this is one of those things where ancient peoples ascribed superstitious beliefs to the abilities of their wizards, and maybe Greeks _thought_ Hythirion should be able to turn people into wizards, and so maybe she needed to bluff when people asked her to do it."

Odette leaned back against the plush interior seating. "Well, I have thought about that, yes."

"And?" Elsa raised an eyebrow.

Odette shrugged. "And I have no idea. So I'll keep looking for new clues."

Elsa nodded.

"What do we hope that he knows, anyway?" Odette asked.

"Duvier?" Elsa said. "Well, hopefully, he gives us some good news about how Everdark has encountered surprisingly fierce resistance below the Sahara and it hasn't taken control of the region. Realistically, he's going to tell us that the Cult of Entropy owns the place, now."

Odette bit her lower lip. "Well, I suppose we take the wins with the losses."

Elsa smiled again and reached across the space between them to cup the side of Odette's face with a hand. "Hey. Today is a day to celebrate. No matter what we learn about Africa. Getting through this is the sort of thing we do one step at a time. And we just took a big step forward."

xxx

Odette was surprised by the intensity of her own joy at meeting their weary friends in a ballroom at the palace. She grinned as Elsa pulled Anna into a powerful hug, and she did the same once they were done. After a few minutes of warm greetings, everyone finally sat down.

"I gather that you have good news for us," Elsa said. "It couldn't have come at a better time."

Hans shrugged. "Well, when you have talent like we've got…"

Kariena elbowed him.

"Hey, I was talking about all of us," he said, rubbing at his side.

"Within the month, we should expect England to be on our side. Some of her colonies might not be so easy to bring into the fold. But on the bright side, Peel is immediately opening London to us. As a matter of fact, he and some of the members of Parliament are recommending that we relocate the capital of the empire to London."

Elsa frowned. "What did you say about this?"

Anna shrugged. "I didn't commit to anything. I said that I'd talk it over with my advisors." She glanced up at Elsa. "There _would_ be some advantages to it, Elsa."

Elsa glanced to the side. "Yeah, yeah, I know, we had the same talk when we brought Corona into the empire. Really, any other country that joins us is going to have a less-destroyed capital than Arendelle, except maybe the United States, at this point."

"Actually, New York City isn't the capital of the United States," Hans volunteered. "As far as we know, Everdark's forces are still working their way down the eastern seaboard towards Washington."

Elsa shot a look at him, and he grinned.

"To be fair, Arianna didn't offer," Anna said.

Elsa glanced down at her hands, clasped before herself on the table. "Well, yes…"

Odette watched her thoughtfully. Why did Elsa care so much about staying in Arendelle? After all, it was the _people_ that made it home, right? Otherwise it was just a bunch of cracked buildings and rubble. But maybe not to her, Odette supposed. Elsa had been queen for several years, and Odette knew that she felt a deep kinship with a sort of platonic ideal of Arendelle. She viewed herself as its steward.

"I'm just saying that I think we should consider it," Anna said, voice diplomatic. She, of course, had also picked up on Elsa's behavior.

"Of course," Elsa said, inclining her head. "And it's your decision, anyway."

Anna looked around the table, and then nodded. "Well, I'll be sure to take everyone's input into account regardless."

"How did Egypt go?" Hans said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Elsa glanced up, her frown waxing more worried. "Badly. We managed to discover what Everdark's forces were up to, but too late to stop them. In a monument in the Valley of the Kings, there was an amulet, a lot like the one that I found in my ancestor's tomb."

"And they were after it?" Hans asked.

Elsa nodded. "Once they recovered it, they performed a ritual using a great many sacrifices from the surrounding villages. They managed to bind Everdark's soul to the world."

"They what?" Kariena said.

"Everdark is back," Elsa said, "for the first time since Ashanerat's days. I don't know what it changes, because it hasn't attacked us directly, but we have to assume that it's bad for us."

Odette looked around the table. Anna and Kariena looked shocked. Hans, to his credit, looked pretty much the same as he always did. He scratched at his beard idly.

"Well, now I know why you felt pressed for good news," he said.

Elsa nodded, and for almost a minute nobody spoke.

Eventually, Kariena jumped in with a change to the subject. "So, uh, now that we have some natural downtime, when are you two getting married?"

She indicated towards Odette and Elsa. Odette blushed, and glanced towards Elsa. "Oh, uh, I don't know –"

"Christmas, I was thinking," Elsa said. "It's a big day anyway, and it's soon, and we'd never forget our anniversary."

"That's a stupid day to get married," Hans said.

"Why?" Elsa shot back.

"Yeah, it sounds like you're just trying to get out of buying Odette Christmas presents _and_ anniversary presents. You're just trying to roll it all into one," Kariena said, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Affronted, Elsa said, "I am not! I just… I don't know, I thought it was poetic or something!"

She halfway stood out of her chair, hands on the table. Odette was surprised by how mad they'd made her. Hans laughed and raised his hands.

"We're kidding, we're kidding. Do it whatever day you want. Odds are, we'll all be dead before you get an anniversary anyway."

Elsa slumped back into her chair and sighed, still annoyed at the both of them. "That's a very optimistic way to look at it."

Hans grinned. "Oh, don't mind my pessimism, it's all just an excuse to be a hedonist."

He stood up. "We done here? It looks like we're done here."


	15. Chapter Thirteen

Arc Eight

Clarity

xxx

Chapter Thirteen

 _The End of All Things is not something to be feared, young one. All things pass in time, and in recent days our world has heard the call of the great beyond. It reflects poorly on the worldliness of the acolyte who chafes at these machinations._

 _The Grandfather_

* * *

A barren field outside London,

England

February 23rd, 1844

A fell wind sent cascades of snow twisting through the air like dervishes in the field around Hans as he crouched beside the hulking ruins of a train. He crouched beside a twelve-foot long sheet of metal rammed into the earth at an oblique angle, covered in an inch of snow on the windward side. Hans's face was a mask of concentration as he studied the blasted metal for several long moments; then he scowled and moved along to the next crushed ruin.

"Are you sure that whatever you're looking for is still here?" A voice called out across the howling wind.

Hans didn't answer immediately. He'd passed a frozen corpse recently, one that had probably belonged to the train's engineer that he'd unsuccessfully tried to save. So… so it had to be around here, somewhere. Something, anything, that could tell him what Everdark's agents had been after on that train. He stepped carefully through a thicket of twisted bars into a relatively open patch of snow, and something underneath his foot shifted. He frowned and knelt down, brushing away the new powder and revealing a few links of a wrecked chain.

"Hans!" The man shouted, stepping through the flurry into view. He was tall, and burly – one of the few members of the old Arendelle guard that had survived the bombing at Condorcet Square last year. His name was Jorgen, and Hans didn't particularly like him, but of course that didn't matter now.

Hans allowed himself a bit of unconstrained excitement as he began to dig the chain out of the snow. At first there seemed to be a great length of it; then it resolved into two distinct chains, one still attached to a twisted mass of iron that had once been the floor of one of the train cars. The other, then, would go to the prisoner's hands, Hans thought to himself, and he examined the far shorter chain to find that, sure enough, there was a pair of broken manacles at the ends. He stood up abruptly, feeling a surge of triumph.

He'd been waiting since early December to unravel the mystery behind his train that had been mysteriously sabotaged, and now he was closer than he'd ever been before. Odette had warned him not to chase phantom threads – she was quite sure that this mystery was a distraction, a waste of attention when there was so much else to keep under control. For the time, Hans had agreed with her, but they'd been gifted with a foreboding respite of late. In the week after England had acceded to the Unified Empire, most of the nations of Europe had followed suit. In a very brief period, the Unified Empire had gone from a broken Arendelle and Corona to easily the strongest coalition of leaders that the world had ever seen.

Odette was working around the clock creating portals that would link the nations together and allow for instantaneous transit anywhere in the Empire, but for once it seemed that they were at peace. Everdark's armies were occupied in Africa and the Americas, and there was some indication that they may be massing to strike an invasion into Canada, but the invasion force had turned out to be not quite so massive as some had expected. Elsa was confused; she had seen Everdark's armies firsthand and was quite convinced that Everdark should have been able to commit more soldiers to Earth. Their best theory of late was that Everdark was having more trouble keeping hold of the Sea of Stars than it had anticipated.

No matter the case, for the time being, Hans was not in great demand. His particular set of skills was of little use during statecraft, and he knew just as well as the others that he was of far less use in the halls of politicians than Anna, or even Elsa. He preferred it this way.

"There are chains," Jorgen said unhelpfully.

Hans ignored him.

 _It looks like Peel's got some explaining to do,_ he thought to himself as he set down a pack and started to wind the chain into it.

xxx

Sir Robert Peel had always been a fan of lavender tea. He found it to be just the thing to soothe his nerves after a long day, and for years he had used it to ease himself into sleep. When he heard the word tea, he could practically smell the cloying aroma. It was heavenly.

Which made the bitter, caffeinated afternoon tea that the servant set in front of him, before scurrying away through the servant's door, particularly offensive to him. Peel wrinkled his nose as he looked at the tray. At least they had left a loaf of that delectable Arendane lemon-bread on the platter, too. Peel was getting quite used to having _that_ particular amenity available all of the time. After a few moments, he sighed and poured himself a cup of the stinking stuff and took a sip. Then he dropped in a few sugar cubes and stirred.

Finally, Peel turned back to the broadsheet and picked it up again, leaning back in his plush recliner. The headline, unsurprisingly, was more news about the Empire. It seemed that the new alliances were all that anyone wanted to talk about these days, but Peel considered it rather old news by now. Why, England had been part of the Unified Empire for over two months by now! Why weren't there ever articles about the theatre anymore? Peel tsk-ed to himself as he ruffled the pages.

The door banged open abruptly and Hans Westergaard stepped over the threshold, damp from melted snow. His face was stormy; something had made him angry, and that was exactly when Peel enjoyed being around Hans the least. He tried not to recoil in his seat as Hans slung himself into the open chair on the other side of the coffee table and slung a pair of battered manacles onto the table. They clattered loudly, and one of the clasps came open.

Peel frowned deeply. "What the devil do you mean by this, Hans? Get that filthy thing off of my hardwood!"

"When my train was violently brought to a stop miles outside of London on December 12th of the last year, I first assumed that the servants of Everdark on board were intent on killing me. Later, I realized that there were agents aboard the train who hadn't recognized me. They were after something else; running in to me was just an unexpected snag."

Peel felt an unpleasant chill.

"At the time, Odette managed to convince me that this wasn't a thread worth chasing down. But I don't forget things like this, Peel."

"And whatever do you think that I can tell you about it? I don't know everything about every train that travels in my kingdom, boy!"

"No, but you knew who was aboard this train," Hans said, voice cold. "Prisoners aren't normally transported chained to the floor of iceboxes, Peel. This was no ordinary transfer."

Peel involuntarily reached to pull at his collar. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Hans reached towards his jacket, and Peel panicked, crying out and looking towards the doors. Hans stilled his hand, and one end of his mouth played upwards, ever so slightly. Peel flushed with embarrassment.

"You have the audacity to try to threaten me in my own home?" Peel cried out. "We're on the same team, Hans!"

Hans grinned again as he reached into his jacked and retrieved a small dark flask. He shook it between two fingers at Peel before uncorking it and taking a pull.

"You're absolutely right, Peel. We _are,"_ Hans said. "So tell me what you know."

Peel shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps you're right. I'll submit a report to the empress immediately, and then she'll decide what is and isn't pertinent to share with her subordinates."

Hans frowned. "That won't do. How would I know that you're telling her the truth?"

"How would you know that I'm telling you the truth if I share with you directly?"  
Hans scratched at his beard. "Fair point."

Peel glanced down at his little plate with tea and Arendane lemon-bread, now quite forgotten. he found that he didn't have the same appetite that he did before Hans barged in. He sighed, and rubbed at his face.

"Look, Hans, I know that you don't particularly care for me. For what it's worth, I don't like you much either. But you must know that I do not wish to withhold information from you out of spite, but rather the fear that you would do something rather rash with the information instead."

Hans looked for a moment as if he were going to reply scathingly, but then he seemed to stop and consider.

"You're not the only one who questions my ability to act with foresight," Hans said with a grim smile. "So you're going to go through Anna."

Peel sighed. "No, I'm not. As an act of good faith, Hans, I will tell you. Perhaps this can be the first step towards our mutual respect. I must warn you that the prisoner was very dangerous. We were able to capture him only at great cost to ourselves. Perhaps a story is in order."

Hans adjusted his position in his seat, leaning back for the first time since he'd entered the sitting room.

"The night that the invasion of our world began," Peel said, "a sizeable contingent of Everdark's forces entered the world through a temporary portal somewhere in the Baltic Sea. You know this, of course, because the majority of the ships sailed for Arendelle. But not all of them."

Hans's eyebrows went up. Perhaps it was the first time he had heard this, Peel thought. He didn't remember telling it to any of the Arendanes before.

"One ship eventually landed at the northernmost edge of our island country and immediately attacked a castle built near the shoreline. Castle Seamark. In more modern years we've built it into a naval fortress with a port, and it is one of the most easily defensible constructions on our northern shore. It would be absurd to attempt to assault such a fortification with conventional means, but they did so with a small team of wizards, rather than a contingent of soldiers."

"So they managed to take the fortress?" Hans asked.

"Yes," Peel said, "although they clearly suffered losses, because by the time we sent forces to reclaim the fortress, only three wizards remained."

"Alright," Hans said. "I can see where this is going. You managed to retake the castle, but only one of the wizards survived the confrontation. The prisoner's life was spared, and the wizard was recovered by Everdark's forces when it was being transported to a more secure location in London."

Peel sighed. "Well, that's mostly correct. Except, now we come to my ultimatum, Hans. The remaining wizard is very dangerous, Hans. The Englishmen were sent to Seamark with explicit orders _not_ to take any prisoners. They were to slay all they encountered."

"So?" Hans said. "They disobeyed orders."

Peel frowned more deeply. "That's the thing," he said. "These men were not the type to disobey orders because they could not bring themselves to kill a man. They were hardened men, sworn to the service of the crown and handpicked for their ability to perform."

"Alright…" Hans said.

"The man identified himself as Ardentum. The commander who described his appearance said that the man emitted a soft multicolored glow, almost as if he were bending light around himself into a rainbow. The man told his English captors that he hailed from a place called the Sea of Stars."

Peel saw recognition in Hans's face, and knew that his suspicion was correct. "I had met Elsa Siguror before, once as Arendelle's queen and once before as Agnarr's heir. However, when most recently I encountered her, I noticed that she too seemed to emit a soft glow. Since England has joined the empire, I've managed to surmise that Elsa spent some time last year in that same place. The Sea of Stars."

"Yes," Hans said, scratching at his beard. Peel couldn't tell if Hans looked worried or not. "This Ardentum is an Immortal. And if I had to hazard a guess, I would assume that he got captured because he wanted to be."

Peel sighed. "Well, I've told you all that I know, Hans. What you do with this information is now yourprerogative."

Hans pushed back his chair but didn't immediately stand up. He was still thinking. "Why hasn't this information already been shared with someone from the Empire already?"

Peel thought for a moment and decided to continue being honest. "Because I still don't trust you all completely. You're telling me that this Immortal is the same thing as Elsa, and comes from the same place, but only this one is our enemy? I suppose I'm willing to accept that, but you must realize that it requires some faith."

"Elsa isn't _from_ the Sea of Stars, Peel," Hans said, rolling his eyes as he stood up and started towards the door. "She accidentally ended up and Immortal. Besides, there's nothing inherently evil about the denizens of the Sea of Stars. Hell, the God you prayed to was part of it."

Peel watched Hans cross the room. "What will you do, then, Hans? You're a hunter at heart, I know. Will you chase down this prize game? Or will you finally show some restraint?"  
Hans shrugged. "I doubt that we'll have to wait long until this Ardentum comes to us, Peel. We've been at peace for too long already."

Then he turned and swept out of the room.

xxx

The Armir Ardentum stood in the middle of a barren field in the Kingdom of Turkey. Dunes of sand eclipsed the horizon in every direction, lending the impression that he was trapped in a titanic bowl of sweltering desert. He looked down at the cracked earth beneath him and frowned, displeasure marring his beautiful face.

Like all Armir – denizens of the Sea of Stars that were born of a union between a true deity and a lesser immortal, Ardentum would never appear to age even as millennia made him wiser. His face was perfect, boyish and yet also regal, with high cheekbones and flawless, pale skin. His hair was a lustrous silver and his eyes were a very deep blue. He stood out dramatically from his cohort, a group of Arabic men wearing turbans to protect their heads from the blowing sands, as he did not need to cover his face. The stinging winds did not seem to reach him, held ceaselessly at bay by a spectrum of rainbows bending the air around him. They gave the Armir a spectral, ethereal quality.

He took a few steps forwards and reached out to rest a hand on a crumbled stone wall, just below waist high, that jutted out of the earth. A few other remnants of what had once been an ancient city dotted the landscape around him, but there was little left. Some relics, perhaps, had been buried, but Ardentum did not have the patience for excavation.

He heard footsteps despite the howling wind, and turned to see the wizard Novendon approaching. Novendon was a man, and as such he too was required to shelter his face out here in the wastes, but Ardentum could still tell it was him from his gaunt stature and his prideful stature. Ardentum resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but nonetheless he turned and inclined his head, ever so slightly, to Novendon.

"As you can see, there isn't much left!" Novendon shouted over the winds. Of course, he had forgotten that Ardentum would be able to hear his thoughts just fine. "We had entertained the hope, earlier on, that we might be able to recover something from the ruins, but by now it's quite clear that there is nothing for us here!"

Ardentum wasn't entirely sure about that. It was disheartening, to be sure, to see what had once been the earth's most magnificent city, a shining metropolis towering above the filth that the rest of humanity endured, lowered to such a state, but it was not the end of the line. Ardentum was sure of it.

"Perhaps not," he called back, though the men were standing quite close to each other now. They would have to take shelter soon, for the sake of the mortals. Ardentum glanced towards the horizon and gauged the distance of the approaching storm.

"What?" Novendon asked. "Do you think that you might be able to use your powers –"

Ardentum waved a hand to indicate that Novendon should not speak quite so freely about this. Then he nodded again, slightly.

"Take the rest of the men back to the village," Ardentum said. "I will see what I can do."

Novendon nodded but did not immediately turn to gather the others. "There is a message from the Master."

Ardentum shot a piercing glance back at the human.

"The city Casteria has fallen," Novendon said.

The Sea of Stars had not proven quite so easy to hold as Everdark had hoped, once its forces had gained control of the massive expanse. Made of many overlapping demiplanes, the Sea was many times larger than earth, and its populace was even less localized. There were dozens of major powers, and some of them possessed vast armies, or magnificently powerful wizards. Despite the fact that Everdark had been able to mass an army larger than all existence had ever known when it gained control of the Underworld, it hadn't been able to send more than a portion of it to earth during the invasion. The majority of Everdark's forces had been tied down merely keeping control of the realms that they already possessed. If the city Casteria had fallen, that was good news indeed. Nearly one million soldiers had been laying siege to the city for seven months now, and if they were ready to be redeployed –

"Will they be sent to earth?" Ardentum asked eagerly.

"Soon," Novendon said. "But I am to tell you that you will not be leading them."

Ardentum felt as if he had been slapped. He blinked the shock away. "What? But the Master promised me –"

"It is irrelevant what the Master said before," Novendon said, voice harsh. "This is a war, and we are intent on winning it. You are needed in another capacity."

Ardentum began to overcome his hurt. Perhaps this was a prestigious task the Master required of him. Perhaps it would be an even better fit than a battlefield commander.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Novendon shrugged. "But Everdark is coming here personally, and I suggest you speak to it then."

Ardentum nodded blankly as Novendon gathered the rest of the men and walked back to the camels, disappearing within moments into the swirling sand.


	16. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

 _I swear to you, Agnarr, that daughter of ours will never provide us with an heir._

 _Queen Iduna, about Princess Elsa_

* * *

The Imperial Palace,

Versailles

February 23rd, 1844

In the end, Empress Anna Siguror _had_ decided to move the capital of the Unified Empire from Arendelle. It had been a difficult decision, and one laden with emotion, but in time Anna was forced to admit that Arendelle was not fit to be the helm of this new coalition of well over one million people. Arendelle had suffered far too much over the past two years, and it would need time to heal. Much to Peel's indignation, Anna had accepted the French King Louis Phillipe's offer and taken up residence in the Versailles palace near Paris. She wasn't sure whether this would be a permanent residence, but for the time being, it was working.

"We've just received word from Miss Tae," Sorise Linkletter was saying as Anna cradled a newborn child in her arms, sitting on the edge of a luxurious bed and rocking the babe to sleep. "We've just received three boats of refugees from the Americas. They landed in Portugal earlier today. The order has already been given to relocate them to the refugee camps in Spain."

Anna nodded absently, the bulk of her attention on the swaddled child. Seven days ago, she gave birth to Kristoff Bjorgmann's son. It had been a remarkably painless birth, and the doctors and midwives had all commented on the health of her boy. Anna found herself smiling fondly down at his grumpy looking face, eyes shut tight and little lips pressed into a line. He had already had a few wisps of blond hair on the top of his head.

"What else, Sorise?" Anna asked.

"Nothing," she replied, walking over to gaze down at the child over Anna's shoulder. "For now, it seems, Everdark is content with an uneasy ceasefire."

"But surely there is more work to be done consolidating the empire, no?" Anna said, glancing up at her.

"Well, yes, if you are looking for something to do," Sorise said, "I am sure that we could find something for you, empress. But you are also a new mother, and perhaps you should allow yourself to care for your child today."

There was a trace of humor in her voice, rare as they were with her. "Maybe today you settle on a name for him."

Anna continued to look down at her boy, now sleeping peacefully, and once again found that she couldn't think of a name that would fit for him. Elsa had suggested that Anna name the boy Kristoff once she'd seen his read hair, but Anna didn't like that. Her son wasn't Kristoff – but that wasn't a bad thing, either. He was someone new, and someone incredibly dear to her. He deserved his own name. If only Anna could think up of one for him.

"I just don't know, Sorise," Anna said. "Nothing sounds right for him. How'd you name your kids?"

Although most people assumed that Sorise was an old maid, in fact she had three children and a host of grandchildren. She didn't often speak of them on the job because, well, she was a professional. Sorise tapped thoughtfully at her chin.

"Well, Lucie, my oldest, was always just a name that I'd liked, and I let Robert name the second one… I'm not sure why he wanted to name our next girl Maxine. Perhaps he likes the name too. We named our son Jacob because we've both always felt a certain connection to the Biblical image of Jacob. But of course, none of this is good advice for you. If you don't think the name of Kristoff is a good fit for the boy, then what about Agnarr? I've always thought that your father had a noble name."

Anna looked at her boy, and in an instant she knew that he was not an Agnarr. But something that Sorise had said stuck with her. "I remember, as a child, sometimes Iduna would read Bible stories to me on Sundays. I don't remember his name, but there was an angel who was known as a leader of armies, a destroyer of evil."

Sorise thought for a moment. "You're probably thinking of the Archangel Michael, who led the forces of heaven to victory against Satan in the Book of Revelation."

"Michael," Anna whispered, and she knew just as quickly that this was right, an unexpected awe making her fingertips tingle. "Michael. My baby boy."

xxx

Elsa stood at the front of a room filled with variegated people, young and old and from every reach of the empire. They had a wide space, perhaps forty feet square, with a vaulted ceiling high overhead and tall windows that let in shafts of golden light to play on the gleaming hardwood. Each of the learners in the room stood on a small quilted pad of fabric and they wore no shoes, dressed like a soldier might for sparring practice. Elsa's hands were clasped in front of herself in a position not unlike that of a woman at prayer, and her eyes were closed.

"Try to focus on the space between your palms, if that makes sense," Elsa said, grappling with that familiar feeling that she really had no business teaching these people to spellcast when things just came instinctively to her. "There is energy there. Or the potential for energy. Try to see that, in your mind's eye."

To her, the energy was a calming, pale blue. Odette and Kariena and even Hans described the feel of their magic as something warm, not unlike an inner fire. Elsa's magic, on the other hand, spread a pleasant coolness through her limbs when she drew upon it. Most would probably describe it as cold.

Elsa could hear nothing except the even breathing of the learners in the room, which was good. They weren't going to learn by talking, and yet Elsa also wished that she had some way to know if any of them were getting it.

"That's right… keep breathing, in and out, just like that… long and slow," she said, her voice growing huskier like it often did when it was soft. "Keep yourself focused on that energy. Contrary to the way we often talk about it, that magic isn't yours. _I_ don't have any more magic than my sister. What I _have_ been gifted with is the rare privilege to shape the world's magic. I'm a borrower. You will be that, too."

Elsa was interrupted by the sound of the room's door opening. The walls below the windows were paneled with wood, and there was an acoustic echo. Her state of peace was broken, and Elsa opened her left eye, one corner of her lips turning downwards slightly. Her annoyance was forgotten however, when she saw that it was Hans, back from England. And so soon! He must have found answers to his questions, whether they satisfied him or not.

"Ah! It is Mr. Westergaard, class, back already from his trip to the British Isles. Welcome, dear Hans."

Elsa's students had by now opened their eyes – most of them probably broke concentration before Elsa – and they murmured hellos of their own to him. He nodded politely to them.

"It's good to be back," he said, smiling. "Good afternoon, everyone."

"What news do you bring us, Hans?" Elsa asked.

"An answer to a mystery," he said cryptically.

Elsa wondered whether Hans was waiting to speak privately to her to say more. On one hand, she preferred transparency; it built trust with these people who would one day serve the Unified Empire as wizards. But on the other, some things still had to be held in confidence. She raised an eyebrow to him, and he nodded.

"Continue with your meditation exercises," Elsa said to the class before padding across the floor and joining Hans. They returned to the door and stepped out into a lavish hallway. Elsa still felt like something of an intruder in this place of arrogant grandeur.

"Do you remember hearing about the train that I took to London in early December?"

"Yes, it was attacked," Elsa said.

"Right, but nothing about the attack made sense," Hans said. "I was like an afterthought; they didn't recognize me at first. It seemed like they accidentally stumbled upon me while they were in the middle of another job."

"Right," Elsa said. "I'm guessing you managed to figure out what they were after?"

Hans nodded. "Extraction," he said. "They were recapturing a prisoner. There's another immortal in the world now, Elsa."

Elsa shrugged. "I mean, there were almost ten in the initial invasion force. We aren't the only two, most of them have just been occupied elsewhere for now. But even so, we aren't explicitly more dangerous than a normal wizard. An inability to die of old age doesn't change the way we react to a blade in our hearts."

"Haven't most of these immortals been master of their Domain for millenia?" Hans asked.

"Well, I suppose so, yes," Elsa replied, tapping at her chin. As far as she knew, Elsa was technically the current God of Glory – she had been gifted the Domain of Glory during the invasion of the Sea of Stars. She didn't think it was easy to take away something like that, even if Everdark's forces were probably currently occupying the Hall of Triumph in case she should ever return.

"Then at the very least they will possess a formidable mastery of magic," Hans said. "This one is named Ardentum. Did you know of him?"

Elsa looked up, trying to recall. She was the only person in the Unified Empire who had ever been to the Sea of Stars, so they were often required to pick her memory for useful tidbits. In hindsight, she wished that she'd done a better job of paying attention to peoples' names. In this case, as in many others, there was nothing. She shook her head.

Hans nodded. He'd been prepared for this answer.

"Why not say this in front of the class?" Elsa wondered to him.

"Because there's something else," he said.

xxx

Kariena, Elsa, and Hans sat at a long table in a sunlit room. Odette stood at the head, looking travel-wearied. She hadn't been home for more than a day at a time since her wedding to Elsa – she'd been needed establishing wargates in the Empire's new acquisitions. Now, however, she turned towards a large map of Europe that had been pinned to one of the walls and indicated a region in the northern part of the Italian states. Elsa thought it was Lombardy, but she could hardly remember the geography lessons of her youth.

"I just got back from Milan," she said, "and unfortunately, I've got some bad news. When the invasion began, Everdark's forces began to occupy Southern Italy."

She now indicated to the map where Italy looked a bit like the heel of a boot. "Within a month, they had taken Rome. It wasn't until a few weeks later that we learned the Pope managed to escape with his life."

It was a logical place to begin an invasion into Europe. Through Italy, Everdark's forces would have a staging ground capable of invading France, Spain, and the Germanic states with ease, and Italy's long coastline would make it easy to ferry supplies northward by ship, both cheaper and faster than transportation over land. So in early January, the Unified Empire had begun to move troops into the northern part of Italy, and with that had come the empire's first foray into 'forceful acquisitions.' Not every city-state they entered had been immediately willing to consolidate under Anna's rule, but so far they had managed to take control of these feudal states with little bloodshed.

"When I was creating the portals in the city," Odette continued, "we began to get refugees from the south. Not many, at first, but now upwards of fifty a day. They all tell us the same thing; Everdark's troops are on the move again."

Elsa wanted to groan. Just this morning, she'd been thinking about how they'd managed to have a fortuitously long stretch of peace. In an instant it again seemed as fleeting as a feather on the wind.

"Everdark's armies are probably deliberately sending the refugees ahead of them with the expectation that they will burden our supplies," Odette was saying. It was a common tactic in siege warfare. There were several fortified towns in the north of the country, left over from the Middle Ages, that would be difficult to take without a prolonged siege. "I spoke to one man just before I left who said that they were only a few days ahead of the armies. We should plan on being occupied before the week is out."

Everyone was silent for a moment when Odette finished speaking, and she looked around the table with tired eyes. Elsa felt a stabbing guilt that Odette was worked so hard for the sake of the empire.

"We need to take this to the generals," Hans said immediately. "Find out how many troops we can muster to the area on short notice and be ready to deploy them."

"I've already sent a messenger to round them up," Odette said. "Empress Anna's speaking to them now. They'll hammer out most of the details regarding the strategy. I'm letting you all know that we're going to be part of the defense force."

"All of us?" Kariena asked, looking around. "I can't remember the last time all of us were together for more than a few minutes at a time."

"It'll be like a family reunion," Hans said.

"Yes, all of us. Anna wants the enemy's forward advance to be met with overwhelming force. She wants their commanders to lose the will to fight, and we're going to be part of that."

"Shock and awe," Hans said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Is what Kess used to call military tactics like that."

"I have concerns about this idea," Elsa said, frowning. "Won't we be giving up the ghost? Surely anyone who survives an encounter with us will spread the word quickly. Novendon and Everdark are going to realize that we've got a magical means of transportation if suddenly all four of us are popping into the middle of a war zone."

As far as anyone in the Unified Empire knew, Everdark and its forces did not yet know that Odette could create portals capable of teleporting large numbers of people thousands of miles. It was perhaps their greatest existing structural advantage in their fight against the darkness. Until know, they had taken great pains to try to conceal this fact from their enemies, making sure that they never moved too many men too quickly, or had too many recognizable people showing up in the same place quickly. This tactic would mean giving up that advantage.

"It's something that the empress thought carefully about before making her decision," Odette said. "But if we lose the north of Italy, it's not just innocent lives that we're losing. We're losing tactical ground that could very well cost us all of Europe sometime down the road. She's weighed the risks and decided that now is the moment we were waiting for."

When the meeting dismissed, the four wizards went back to their chambers and started to pack. They set out that very night.

xxx

Novendon stood before the Worldgate in the tower Nahat'Tiemn in the City of Brass. His hands were clasped behind his back, and the tall man did not turn to glance back at the men who were waiting behind him, nor reach for his watch in its pocket, because he knew that to do so would be disrespectful. One considered it a great honor to wait upon the God of Darkness, the Eternal Prince of Entropy. Even if that deity happened to be running considerably late.

Finally, there was a great flash of light, and the bizarre creature materialized in the air above the Worldgate, a platform of light appearing with it to accept its form. Everdark raised a hand to stop the men behind Novendon from kneeling and descended the steps to walk beside its most trusted advisor. They turned and began back, through a tunnel made by supplicants and fanatical cultists standing at attention to either side.

"Greetings, my friend," Everdark said to Novendon, the tenor of its voice creating a familiar, brachial rumble in Novendon's chest. "Give me news. What has Ardentum managed to recover from the ruins of Celestus?"

Celestus was the ancient, magical city that had stood against Everdark during its last invasion of the world. The people of the city, lead by the ancient Protector Ashanerat, had been triumphant against the God of Darkness, banishing it to oblivion for many millennia. Now Everdark was determined to learn from its past mistakes and had dispatched the Archetype of Clarity to the ruined city to try to learn anything he could from it.

"Well, you know as well as I that Ardentum can be difficult to work with in fair weather, master," Novendon said. They turned out onto the winding path around the exterior of the tower. As they did so, they passed blast marks in the wall unlike any others Novendon had seen. Rather than be blackened by the scorch of flame, this section of the wall seemed to be forever coated with a thin sheen of rime. It served as a continual, embarrassing reminder that the new Protector, Elsa Siguror, had managed to slip through his fingers here several months ago. "We have heard very little from him. He seems intent upon saving his revelations until they bear fruit or fail to. We should know soon, however."

"And what of the Sea?"

Everdark had been spending most of its time on earth, relishing in the delight of conquest. In the time since its return, it had seen great victories in the Americas, South and Western Africa, Australia, and Asia. World leaders had fallen, the Chinese empire had crumbled, and imperial powers in Europe were receding to the little, impotent countries they came from. These triumphs were marred, however, by the unnerving success that Anna Siguror, the sister of the Protector, was having consolidating the power of Europe. Soon, Novendon was worried, the 'Unified Empire's' influence might stretch even further.

In any case, Everdark had turned its attention away from the Sea of Stars, and in that time discontent had begun to fester. Novendon glanced down through the blackness of the night towards the City of Brass below. The orange glow of revolutionary flames was just visible from this dizzying height.

"Aside from this, master," Novendon said, indicating to the disaster below, "there is one worrying development. A sizeable number of Armir, perhaps twenty, and two Illinir from the Dominion of Glory have retaken the Hall of Triumph from our forces. Our attempts as so far to retake it have been unsuccessful."

Everdark stopped walking and turned a sharp eye towards Novendon. "The Dominion of Glory? Tell me that's a coincidence."

Novendon rarely feared the wrath of Everdark, as he knew that he was far too important to be killed by the god in a reckless fit of rage, but sometimes, he knew that he tested Everdark's restraint. Now was one of those times, and he hesitated before speaking.

"I'm afraid not, master. One of the Illinir has announced that they intend to preserve the Hall of Triumph for the return of its rightful master. The… the current Protector."

Everdark did not shout or scream with anger, but it was the god's cold fury that frightened Novendon most.

"So be it, then. I will deal with them myself."


	17. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

 _There is a traditional creation myth, one that dates back to days long before I was called the Watcher, that I think about often._

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _a private journal_

* * *

Milan,

Lombardy

February 24th, 1844

A gray, drizzly dawn broke over lush, rolling hills that stretched into the Italian countryside. Hans stood on top of an old stone rampart, eyes narrowed as he watched the dark stain of the enemy's forces advancing on the horizon. Twenty minutes ago, their movements had become audible, and now there was a constant, low rumble, like distant thunder. He hadn't found much sleep last night, and now, up early, he thought of Dhurstrom Kess.

Hans's old mentor hadn't been on his mind for quite some time, now, but the old codger had a way of re-entering his thoughts at strange times. Now he remembered a day towards the end of his time with Kess, as vividly as if it were yesterday.

xxx

"Be vigilant, Hans," Kess said, trudging through the muck a few feet ahead of Hans in the wending forest path. "There are bandits in this part of the wood."

Now eighteen years old, Hans had been under the mentorship of Dhurstrom Kess for three years. During that time, he had honed his body and his mind. What had once been an angry boy, lashing out at the world for all the wrongs it had wrought upon him, there was now a driven, determined young man with a cold fire burning inside. In the meantime, he had come to think of his mentor as the closest thing to a father that he had ever known – where King Westergaard was standoffish, impatient, and often cruel, fomenting dissent between his sons in order to see who rose to the top, Kess was by alternative patient, experienced, and wise.

"I thought the army cleared them all," Hans said. His father had tolerated the nuisance that the bandit clans of the great forest had been for a while, but eventually it had grown to be too much. By the time they became confident enough to attack merchant caravans, it was clear that something had to be done. "My father threw a party to celebrate the victory. They had the bandit king's head put on a stake."

"A symbolic victory, to be sure," Kess said, turning his head to scan the line of trees with narrowed eyes. In recent months, Hans was starting to notice that his master looked older than he used to. Which seemed absurd to him – after all, it had only been three years. And yet, Kess no longer seemed as strong as he once had, and his hair looked grayer. His face more tired. "But these bandits are not brought together loyalty, or fealty. These are desperate men, driven to their thievery by lack of work and food. Losing their leader will not make them disperse, not while they still search for a meal each night."

This troubled Hans, as did the gruesome memory of the man's head, with its twisted expression and its dead eyes, stuck on the end of a spear. The vision had lingered beyond his eyelids whenever he shut them ever since. If the desecration of that man wasn't enough to bring peace to these woods, then what had been the point of the battle which killed him? The celebrations in Olympia notwithstanding, the king's army had lost over a dozen men in addition to the scores of outlaws they had laid down.

"Is it safe to be traveling here, then, master?" Hans wondered aloud. He glanced around himself, suddenly wondering if that crawling sensation were eyes following him from the bush. "What are we doing out here, anyway?"

 _Jesus, I sound like a coward,_ he thought bitterly, and shame mixed with his unease.

"Quite safe," Kess said, "I assure you. We are being followed, but these men will not lay a hand on you, or on me. We are here to meet with them, actually."

Hans stopped. "Meet with them?"

Kess kept walking, and Hans quickly had to start up again, climbing over a tree growing almost sideways into their path. It was a brutally humid July day and Hans stumbled through a cloud of buzzing insects, cursing softly. Kess chuckled softly, and then they stepped abruptly into a clearing of trampled grass. A dry streambed, left over from the natural channel that had been dammed to run mills upstream, cut through the center of the space, and on the other side of it stood three figures in dark cloaks.

One of them stood slightly before the other two, as if they were his guard, and surely enough he was the first to speak. His hood obscured part of his face, but he had a grizzled jaw with an uneven, patchy beard. He and his companions were thin, one of them painfully so. Hans felt guilty even to have eaten plain gruel this morning.

"Kess. You didn't tell us that you were going to bring someone else."

Hans glanced towards Kess, and he started to get a strange, uncomfortable feeling. Why were they meeting with outlaws on their own domain in the first place? Unbidden and unexpected, Hans realized that he never did learn why Kess had left the military. He assumed that his mentor had eventually grown old enough to be honorably discharged, but why hadn't he simply been promoted to command? He was a natural, charismatic leader.

"It's fine, Vernal," Kess said. "I can vouch for Hans. He is a good man."

Hans forced himself to remain calm as the three figures across the streambed all turned their gazes towards him. He felt exposed. Could they tell he was a nobleman? What if Kess had figured out Hans's true identity, and he'd taken Hans out to the woods to let him be killed by these outlaws?

 _No,_ he thought, bringing himself back to reality. _No, that's absurd. Kess loves me like a son._

"He looks strong," was Vernal's only reply. Hans felt a wave of relief, and his legs felt momentarily weak. Vernal turned back to Kess. "Are you sure that you want to take the young man into your confidence, Kess? This is not an easy thing to ask of a person."

Kess turned to glance at Hans out of the corner of his eye, and Hans realized with a sinking feeling that Kess was indeed working for, or with, these men. He felt as if an idol of his had been shattered. He felt sick. He glanced down, unable to meet Kess's gaze.

"Yes," came his mentor's reply. "Hans is ready."

"Very well," Vernal said. "What news do you have of the Lathlander gate? Our people could use some good news right now."

Olympia's keep was built inside castle walls that, during the Middle Ages, had housed the entire town. In the centuries since, the town had grown into a city, and then into a true metropolis, expanding outside of the castle walls several times through their expansions, so that now the outermost suburbs of the city had no wall at all to defend them, one of the most significant signs that the Southern Isles had left the Dark Ages behind. There was no longer any need to protect Olympia from constant siege.

Eventually, all of the small buildings inside the walls of the original castle had been demolished, and a royal palace had been built more or less on top of the old, stone keep, so that the first few floors of the structure remained a stone box, while the upper floors and the wings were the beautiful design of a modern architect. The Lathlander gate was one on the southeast of the wall, and it opened into the countryside, so as to let into the palace grounds without going through the city first. It had been sealed shut for as long as Hans could remember, and he knew that his father often toyed with the idea of it being taken out of the wall entirely.

"The Lathlander gate is precisely the point of our friend Hans," Kess said. "He will be able to open it for us."

Hans felt a chill. The bandits had posed a significant threat to Olympia simply by harrying merchant caravans that traversed the great forest; could they really be plotting an all-out attack against the palace? Hans had a sudden, painful vision of his mother's head, run through on a spear, deformed in all the same ways as the bandit lord's.

"Him? He is just a boy," Vernal said, voice tinged lightly with disdain.

"Trust him as much as you trust me, Vernal," Kess said. "I would put my life on the line for this fine young man. He will not let us down."

Hans realized, too, that _Kess knew who he really was._ How else would he be so confident that Hans would be able to get them into the palace?

"But how?" Vernal said. "How will he do it?"

Kess smiled. "Trust me. He has a way."

On the trip back through the great forest, Hans finally found his voice. "How long have you known?"

Kess glanced at Hans sidelong. "Since the first day."

Hans winced. "I should have made up a first name, too."

Kess shook his head. "It wasn't the name that gave you away, Hans." He turned and tanned a finger against Hans's chest. "It was the way you held yourself. The day I found you, you were lying beaten on the ground in a pool of your own blood. But when I picked you up off the ground, you held your chin high. There's a pride to you found nowhere else on this earth but in royalty."

Hans couldn't tell if that was a compliment. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but Kess anticipated it.

"They're good people, Hans. I've never met a criminal who didn't wish that they had any honest way to put bread on their table. Do you know why they starve? Because it's been too wet these last three summers. There has been a pestilence of insects unlike any I remember. Still, that alone should not be enough to cause so many farms to founder, but in the meantime your father has doubled their taxes to finance his foolish wars on the mainland."

Hans felt his cheeks grow hot. He hated his father, more than perhaps any other person, but still his military upbringing led him to chafe at the thought that the war was pointless. The pride of his nation was on the line.

"They have no money to speak of, so they must pay your father in kind. Between their taxes and the grain they must save to feed their families through the winter, they must let their fields shrink during the next planting season. After three years of this, they cannot sustain it any longer. When the farmers fail, everything becomes more expensive, and the craftsmen cannot afford to hire. These men could not find work in the city, and so they turn to the only thing that they have left."

Kess stopped fully now and turned to meet eyes with Hans. A pale, haunting blue, seeming to lay him bare as they always did.

"I know that you have no love for your father, Hans. I know that you can see that he is an unfit ruler for this kingdom. Don't you wish to for something, anything you can do to make your voice heard?"

Hans found that he could no longer meet his master's gaze, and he turned it to the ground again.

"Would they… would they kill them? My brothers, my father…"

"No," Kess shook his head. "No. These men are not fit to lead a kingdom, and it is not revolution on their minds. They plan to ransom your family back to the kingdom. No harm will befall them unless you wish it."

"My mother." Hans said.

"I swear it," Kess replied.

xxx

A decade later, Hans was surprised by how viscerally he could still feel the same mix of emotions he had on that day. Betrayal, fear, and excitement. He opened his eyes slowly and realized that during his reminiscence the steady drumbeat of the enemy's advance had come to a halt. The dark stain had come to a stop perhaps a mile from the walls of Milan, and he could just make out the cannons that were being set up at the front of their lines.

"Alright Hans, I think we're ready to go –" Kariena stopped as she stepped up onto the battlements, and her brow furrowed as she looked at him. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," he said, blinking and turning towards her. "Just thinking about something that happened a long time ago. Wondering if I made the right choice."

Kariena looked like she wanted to press him, but there really wasn't time. "Alright, I'm gonna take a raincheck on that. Let's go."

xxx

Elsa held the harness steady as Odette carefully worked her way into her horse's saddle, gazing mistrustfully down at the large beast. She inadvertently smiled and turned to see that Kariena was also unsure about her horse.

"Excuse me and Odette for not being royalty," Kariena said, rolling her eyes as Hans chuckled. "We didn't have an entire stable of riding horses to practice on."

Truth be told, Elsa didn't consider herself an expert at horsemanship either, but compared to Odette and Kariena she looked like a master equestrian. She swung herself up into the saddle of a palomino and brought it to a canter, heading towards the gates. The others fell in behind her. Some of the town's citizens as well as a good many of the empire's soldiers lined the streets, watching the wizards as they passed by. A few tossed daisies at them, and others murmured prayers.

They reached the east gate of the city, and Elsa gave the call to the men stationed at it, and they began to turn a great wooden wheel. The oaken doors rumbled, and then they began to turn outwards. Once they were open wide enough for a horse to pass through, the four wizards kicked their horses into a fast trot and rode out along a path that wound its way into the irrigated foothills surrounding the city.

Elsa turned her gaze to the south, and sure enough, soon they were no longer in sight of the army. "Alright, they can't see us anymore," she said.

"I'm feeling optimistic today," Kariena said. "I think we might actually make it to their camp undetected."

Hans shook his head and chuckled. "Ah, but see, that would require luck to be on _our_ side, something that is theoretically possible, but I have never personally experienced."

Elsa laughed, too, and then they rode on.

In the end, Kariena was right; lady luck shone upon them today.

Even though the enemy's lines were only a mile away from the city, the route that Elsa and the others took was winding and circuitous, meandering through pleasant orchards and across sun-glitzed fields. The sun had risen now and was shining strongly through the parted clouds. It never ceased to amaze Elsa how truly mild the winters of Mediterranean states were, especially when compared to the bleak snowstorms of Arendelle.

After about twenty minutes, they drew their horses in at the edge of a grove. After the trees gave way, the land depressed into a concave bowl that fanned out for quite a stretch; it was here that the enemy was setting up camp. They were now far behind the enemy lines, peering through the tree line to see scores of men milling about as they established tents, dug trenches, and carted supplies around on big packs. Elsa didn't like seeing these men performing such mundane task – it humanized people that she was going to have to kill. Better to imagine them all as blood-hungry caricatures.

Hans settled down beside the three young women, having tied the horses up in a clearing some thirty feet back. "Spot a commander?"

Elsa narrowed her eyes. All the men that she could see wore identical uniforms of black and gold. Here or there, they seemed to be coalescing around one man, but nobody seemed to be in charge.

"Maybe they haven't arrived yet," Odette said, indicating to the roads that led south, which were still thick with soldiers.

"That's honestly fine," Kariena said, shifting her weight. "Even if there were a commander somewhere out there, there's still going to be five thousand armed men between us and them, and even _I_ can't just magically appear in the center of their camp. We just do the backup plan, then."

They'd all entertained the naivete that they might be able to assassinate a general and a few commanders and leave the enemy forces without leadership, but it was of course an unlikely dream in the first place. Their backup plan – their real plan, as it were – was to try to do some damage to the enemy supply lines. So they returned to their horses, untethered them, and started riding further south.

xxx

It took three hours before the last of the enemy soldiers had entered their sprawling camp, and another thirty minutes for Elsa and Odette to carefully make their way to the southeast road that their enemy had been using. Now Elsa stood a few feet away from where her horse munched on some trampled, scrubby grass, inspecting the gash-like furrows in the ground where countless wagons and carriages had crossed over it. The morning's moisture, combined with the passage of so many feet, had turned the road into a sludgy, muddy mess.

"I can't help but wonder if this will matter at all," Odette said, kneeling down near Elsa and turning her pack upside down. A large sack hit the ground with a flurry of small, metallic clinks. "I mean, the countryside around here is pretty passable. Once they realize the roads are dangerous, then they'll just start driving their carts over the hills."

Elsa had thought of this too. A frown furrowed her brow as she too removed a large sack of caltrops from her bag and began to scatter them across the road, doing her best to make the spaces fairly random. She accidentally pricked herself on one of the inch-long spikes, and she hissed softy.

"You're right," she said, frowning. "What can we do to make sure they take the roads?

Odette turned around, gazing at the hill behind her. She drummed at her chin thoughtfully, and then walked across the road – carefully sticking to the area south of where they'd already thrown the spikes – and strode of the other hill, shading her eyes with a hand to gaze back towards where Hans and Kariena were preparing to light fires. The backup plan they'd worked out involved trapping the roads that the enemy would use to resupply, and then lighting fire to the grassy hills behind the enemy camp, hopefully destroying some of their supplies before they were able to control them. Of course, Hans and Kariena were going to wait to light the fires until Elsa and Odette were clear of their destructive path.

"Maybe Hans and Kariena could help think of someth– uh-oh."

Elsa dropped her bag of caltrops and dashed across the clear part of the road, but she could already smell the acrid smoke. She came up behind Odette and gazed down upon plumes of black smoke rising from the hills beyond. They were already on fire.

"We had a plan!" Elsa said, exasperated. "What on earth are they thinking?"

"Something went wrong," Odette murmured. "We've got to get back to them."

She turned and began to dash towards their horses, tethered to a scrubby little tree next to a muddy stream nearby. The horses had caught a whiff of the smoke as well, and they were panicky, stomping around and snorting. Elsa followed after Odette, leaving the caltrops behind. It was too late to worry about trapping the other road at this point; the grass underneath them might be springy and damp – not conducive to a runaway blaze – but Hans and Kariena had brought pitch to make sure the fires burned fiercely. Elsa didn't want to get cut off from Milan because she stayed afield too long.

Odette was already unsteadily climbing her way into one of the horse's saddles when it hit Elsa. A spectral blow, unseen and terrible, driving the breath from her lungs and driving her to her knees. Vaguely, as if from far away, Elsa heard Odette cry out in shock, but Elsa couldn't focus on anything but the swimming ground. She felt… _distant,_ as if her soul was suddenly somewhere very different than her body.

And she heard the familiar voice of a dark god.


	18. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

 _It speaks of two forces, Desit and Nedemrir. Desit was the mother of all things, who breathed life into stone and gave birth to the first humans. Now, in many creation myths, this would imply that Nedemrir would be Desit's opposite. The destroyer, the bringer of chaos or ruin. But the Khevant people did not believe that such a force should be the subject of worship, or even elevation. Nedemrir was the god of time, who would take what his sister had created and spin it onto the eons, letting his sister's beloved things grow and become new things again._

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _a private journal_

* * *

Olympia,

the Southern Isles

August 13th, 1833

Hans tried not to stare at his feet, but he found it hard to look anywhere else. Dhurstrom Kess waved a hand, motioning for Hans to come look. Hans swallowed his dread and moved obediently to his master's side, huddling down and following the old man's gaze towards Olympia. The unplanned, sprawling suburbs that had sprung up around the city grew like hills around the ancient stone walls left over from the Dark Ages, little twinkling lights glowing in their windows as they belched smoke into the night through their chimneys. Hans and Kess crouched near the edge of the woodland that sprung up about a mile away from the city. A river split their path about halfway past, providing the water that farmers used to feed their crops for miles around.

"The bridge has not been broken. You have done well, Hans." Kess clapped a hand on Hans's shoulder, but Hans didn't reply.

The river was two hundred feet across at its narrower portions, and deeper than a man's height. It was difficult to cross except at the Ford bridge, which was guarded by a gatehouse and was supposed to be 'broken' each night – a section of about twenty feet near the center of the bridge was built to be removable, and it was the duty of the last shift of guards each night to bring it back with them to prevent a nighttime assault on the city. A simple defense, but rather effective, as the river encircled three sides of the city and the last was difficult to reach without traversing through marshland. It was far cheaper than extending the wall to surround the outer limits of the city as well.

It had been Hans's responsibility, among other things, to ensure that the bridge was not broken the night that the bandits planned to attack the city. Hans nodded solemnly, and then glanced over his shoulder. They were downwind from the rest of their army, and the stench of sweat and dirt that clung to the men was intense. He wondered if it would be enough to alert anyone in the city of their approach.

"Peace, Hans," Kess said, sensing the younger man's unrest and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Remember. We move only for the king, and we do not intend to take even his life. If all goes well, no blood will be shed tonight."

Hans nodded blankly.

Kess stood and marched ten yards back into the woods, where he began to give orders to the men. Hans wondered how well they would listen to him. They were untrained, starving, and desperate. To Hans it seemed unlikely that all would go well tonight.

A minute passed, during which Hans wondered again whether he should tell Dhurstrom Kess to call off the attack. Maybe Hans could speak to his father about the bandits personally and somehow ensure that they would be given food in exchange for peace. Even as he considered this, however, he knew that he could not face his father about this. He was a coward. Finally, Kess returned and placed a hand on Hans's shoulder.

"Alright, Hans. We're going to move out."

Hans numbly started to move, but Kess's hand remained.

"Don't come with us, Hans."

Hans frowned.

"Don't come with us. I know that I said that things shouldn't get dangerous tonight, but the truth is, they might. I won't see you risking your life for something like this. You have too much to live for, Hans."

Hans felt a chill. "You're afraid that if we reach the palace, I'll turn against you. You think I can't do this."

Kess looked at Hans, his face barely visible in the ambient moonlight. Kess's eyes flickered back and forth as they searched his own.

"Yes," he finally said, "I am. But I also love you, Hans, and I don't want to see you hurt. And for both reasons, I want you to stay."

Hans felt a rending surge of guilt. He glanced down towards his feet again, not really seeing anything. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to face Kess when his master learned that they had walked into a trap, but in this moment, he hated himself, and he could not bring himself to avoid the pain.

"I want to go," he said, looking up to meet Kess's eyes again.

Kess was silent for a few moments, and something seemed to change in his face. For an instant, he almost appeared sad.

"Very well," he said. Then he turned and walked past the edge of the trees, drawing an old sword from its scabbard and slapping the flat of the blade against his ring mail three times. Hans heard movement in the trees behind him, and they began to march towards Olympia.

xxx

They passed the bridge in under ten minutes, and then they began to spread out. There were about one hundred men total, and they split many times over, spreading out to march into the unguarded streets of the suburbs from every angle, in groups of five or so. Kess, Hans, Vernal, and the that had been guarding Vernal during their meeting in the forest comprised one of these groups. With every step, Hans felt more leaden, but he could not bring himself to speak up, and soon they set foot onto the streets of the city.

 _There's no going back, now._

Hans pulled his cloak tighter around himself as they passed a pair of constables leaning against a tavern and chatting, but curfew did not come until midnight in over an hour, and the guards didn't even give them a second glance. The bandits did not have metal armor, and they mostly dressed in the toughest leathers they owned. As weapons they mostly carried sickles used to thresh grain, or heavy wooden clubs shaped from the trees of the forest. Hans and Kess were the only ones who carried swords. So there was not the clinking of metal that accompanies even the quietest soldier to ruin their advance.

The old walls that separated the center of Olympia from the rest used to only have two entrances, a gate to the north, and another to the west, but in recent years free commerce had become a more pressing need than defense, and now there was a gate in all four directions. They were guarded, but until curfew there would be some foot traffic through them, and with some luck the small groups of bandits would be able to blend into the crowd.

They made good time through the city streets, and Hans's pulse quickened with each step that brought them closer to the heart of Olympia. Twice more he wrestled with the urge to tell Kess to abandon the attack, but it was far too late now. Their group fell in behind an ox cart and its driver and started to shuffle through the towering gate into the inner city, pretending to be a retinue to the tanner who didn't bother turn and look at them.

Hans turned an eye to the guards as they passed them, peering out from underneath his hood and wondering whether they could see past the façade. The one closest to him belched and reached down to scratch his rear, gazing stupidly past them into the middle distance. Then they were through the gate, into the inner city.

Hans looked around, and he didn't see anyone waiting to leap out at them. The craftsmen's houses were all shuttered and dark, the undercrofts closed up and the alleyways empty. Maybe his father hadn't taken his warning seriously! For a moment, Hans felt elated, the burden of guilt lifted from his shoulders. They were going to pull it off after all!

Kess picked up his pace, and the others hurried as well to follow suit. They left the tanner and his ox behind.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Kess said. "The streets are too empty. I live in this neighborhood, and there's always the sound of singing from the tavern until midnight."

Then, Hans heard a great oaken creaking behind, and the rhythmic thud of footsteps. They whirled around and saw that the gate was being closed. Kess shouted and began to dash back towards it, the rest of the men falling in behind him. But they were now many yards away, and they came to an unsteady halt about half of the way back when the doors came shut with a bang. Distantly, Hans could hear the echoes of other distant crashes as the gates shut on every side of the walls. Two dozen soldiers were filing down from the walls, and for a moment Hans felt dizzy. So many! He hadn't expected his father to draw up the full force of the guard, but it appeared that he had done just that.

"You there! Halt immediately!" The leader among them called out, stepping forward from the rest of the mass and pointing his saber at them. The rest of them had rifles drawn, trained towards them. The tanner and his ox cart had disappeared entirely, ducked down a side street out of the fray. "In the name of the king, you are under arrest!"

Hans felt a sinking feeling. It was done. He wasn't happy, but his mother was safe. And besides, the bandits wouldn't be happy in the dungeons, but at least they would get fed.

"What is this treachery?" Kess said, his voice low and angry. Then he raised it and called out, "How were we given away to you? You should not have known we were coming!"

The captain of the soldiers frowned. "I recognize that voice. It is the voice of a man I once held in high esteem. I once considered him as something of a mentor, before he brought dishonor to himself and the rest of the army of the Southern Isles. You are Dhurstrom Kess."

Kess defiantly reached up and lowered his hood, baring his silver hair to the moonlight.

"The only dishonor to speak of is that which comes from our king, Ladrian. You know that."

Ladrian scoffed. "I know no such thing. You have fallen beneath contempt, Kess. To see you now with these lowlifes, these _wretches._ These men steal and rape and pillage and you are willing to look me in the eye and call _me_ the one who serves the unjust?"

Kess did not reply to the jab directly, but his eyes blazed. Hans worried that he would say something brave and foolish to make the men shoot at him. But what he said next filled Hans with an even more powerful dread.

"I asked you how you learned of our attack," Kess said. "If you will throw me in the dungeon with the rest of these men, at least do me the honor of telling me where went astray, Ladrian."

Maybe Captain Ladrian didn't know. Maybe he wasn't important enough. Maybe Hans's father would be self-aggrandizing as usual, and find a way to try to take the credit for himself. Maybe –

"Why, you had the sheer _stupidity_ to trust the son of the king himself!" Ladrian said, grinning. He pointed directly towards Hans. "Isn't that the boy prince right there, hiding behind his hood?"

Kess dropped his sword. It clattered to the ground in slow motion. Hans felt as if his head were underwater. Ladrian turned towards Hans and jeered.

"What's the matter, boy? You've done a great service to the nation today. I suspect that you'll even get a commendation for this."

Kess turned his head slowly and glanced at Hans out of the corner of his eye. The young prince glanced down, tears burning at his face.

"Aren't you proud!" Ladrian yelled. "Because you've gotten your friends killed! The king isn't taking any prisoners. Not this time! He's dealing with this problem once and for all!"

Hans began to cry in earnest now, and he fell to his knees. Distantly, he heard gunshots in the night as the bandits were executed at the other gates.

"NO!" He cried out, hoarsely. "No, it wasn't supposed to be like this, Kess, I just – I just couldn't let them take my mother!"

He could not face his master, even as Kess shouted at him.

"You betrayed us, Hans! You sold our lives to an uncaring father! He doesn't love you, Hans! He never did!"

Hans couldn't see. He couldn't feel anything but a greater pain than anything he'd experienced.

"Leave the boy," Ladrian said curtly.

"I'm sorry!" He screamed, dragging his gaze up to stare into Kess's eyes. They looked haunted, empty. "I'm –

Gunshots split the air. Hans saw a glint of blood spoil the air, and Kess collapsed backwards to the ground. Slumping in an undignified heap.

"NO!" Hans screamed, sobbing aloud and dragging himself across the intermediate space to crouch beside Kess's crumpled form, brushing hair out of the old man's face. "God –"

Sudden silence. All Hans could hear were his own racking sobs. He cradled Kess's head in his arms, dropping bitter tears onto the old man's face. Kess's eyes stared blankly upwards, and then slowly moved to focus unsteadily on Hans. He coughed, blood dribbling onto his chin.

"I… I…"

"I'm sorry," Hans whispered. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't think – I didn't know – I can't lose her!" He cried.

"I know," Kess whispered. "I know." He closed his eyes, and worked his jaw silently for a moment. Then he opened his eyes again. "I'm glad to have found you Hans. I'm glad I brought you back. Recalled you to life…"

He murmured unintelligibly for another moment or two, and then his body slowly relaxed, his eyes staring glassily upwards towards infinity. Hans reached out and gently shut them, crying heedlessly of the soldiers gathering around to collect the bodies.

Finally, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Your father will be proud of you, Hans," Ladrian said. "He's wanted an excuse to be rid of Kess for years now. The man's always been a nuisance, and you've gone and done what he never could."

Hans didn't reply, for there was nothing to say. He'd made his father proud.

xxx

"Hans?" Kariena asked, crouching beside him as they knelt at the edge of a small copse of trees. They had split away from Elsa and Odette a few minutes before as they left to throw caltrops onto the roads leading towards the enemy's sprawling campsite. It was Hans and Kariena's job to be ready to light fire to the hillside once they returned.

Hans's mind came back to the present, and he shuddered. In the immediate aftermath of Kess's death, Hans had sunken into a near-inconsolable depression. His father had initially wanted to reward Hans for his part in defeating the bandit army, but once it became clear that Hans hadn't wanted praise, King Westergaard had been content enough to go back to treating Hans the same way that he always had. It had taken years before Hans had started to recover from the loss of his friend and mentor, and still he sometimes viscerally saw Kess's lifeless eyes, staring upwards.

Yet he had also come to accept that there was a reason he'd done as he did. Much as Hans might have idolized him, Kess had been far from a perfect man, and he wouldn't have been able to stay the bandits from a slaughter. Hans knew that if the bandits had gotten into the palace, he wouldn't have been able to protect his mother. She'd have been raped or killed. He'd held lives in each hand, and he'd been forced to choose between them.

"Hans?" Kariena said again, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "You're really fading out on me here, buddy."

Hans turned towards her. "Yeah. I know, sorry. Let's get back to work."

Hans unshouldered his pack and set it on the ground between them, undoing the clasps and revealing inside several jars of pitch and tinderboxes. Kariena reached in and scooped the jar out, sliding one of the tinderboxes into one of the pockets of her trousers.

"You see that crest?" She said, pointing into the distance towards a gentle swell that housed an orchard of grapevines, abandoned by their farmer to the wake of the advancing army.

Hans nodded.

"I'll head that way. You're fine with lighting up the trees over there?" She said, pointing farther away.

Hans nodded again.

"Perfect. Remember, if you're caught, light it and run. They'll probably have time to put the fire out, but Elsa and Odette will be able to see the smoke and they'll know to get out of here."

"Do you think this is even going to work?" Hans asked. "I mean, the dew hasn't had time to burn off."

Though it was getting warmer by the minute, it _had_ rained this morning, and Hans was worried that any fires they started would sputter out soon after they started them.

"We could always wait until they've tethered their horses, and then let a wolf into the enclosure to frighten them all. If they stampede, it might have the same effect."

"Well, there's nothing saying that we can't try that if this doesn't pan out," Kariena said, stepping discreetly out from the line of trees and casting a furtive glance towards the mass of troops in the distance. "We're playing _all_ of our cards, here."

And she was off.

xxx

Hans watched her go for about half of a minute. He wondered whether he should have wished her luck or told her not to take any risks. He smirked to himself as he thought about how she would probably react to being told not to take any risks. Then he stood up and started to move as well.

He left his horse behind, as his footfalls were softer than galloping hooves, and ran at a light jog through the fields behind the enemy's army towards where he and Kariena agreed that he'd light the fires. He tried to be vigilant watching for trouble in the tall grass ahead, but his gaze kept straying over towards the grove where she'd run off to. Now that he thought about it, it seemed like a reasonable place for the enemy to leave behind commanders. Maybe that was why they hadn't seen anyone in command in the bulk of the army. He wondered if he'd left Kariena to great danger.

 _She's capable of protecting herself,_ an amused voice inside seemed to say to him. _Maybe more so than you_ _are._

Hans crossed a dry streambed in a flash, kicking up puffs of clay with each step. A gentle rise crested a few feet beyond the river, and as he started up the rise the long grasses at the top shifted abruptly. Hans reached on instinct, diving towards the ground. A volley of gunfire crackled in the air, and dirt showered him from behind. Hans rolled into the grass, reaching for his own weapons and thinking quickly.

He was about half a mile from the bulk of the army. Even the men towards the back probably wouldn't hear him over the ruckus they created raising camp; even from here, he could hear the metallic clangs and communal chatter coming from their camp. Would the sound carry to Elsa, Odette, or Kariena? He didn't know. He rolled back to one knee and drew a pistol from the holster underneath his arm in a fluid movement. He moved to fire, but realized that he couldn't see the men at the top of the hill.

The grass had gone completely still.

Hans wasn't normally one prone to fear during combat, but he felt a bead of sweat break out on his forehead. Did they see him? No, they'd have had plenty of time to shoot him by now. But they'd have been able to see the grasses move as he rolled. He briefly wondered what would happen if he phased into the ground, but immediately realized that it was a stupid idea. He could only remain insubstantial for a few heartbeats at a time, and he wasn't eager to find out what would happen if he phased in partway through something solid.

Instead, he quickly unshouldered his pack and then threw it towards the left, beneath the line of the grass. There was another spurt of gunfire, and mercifully no bullets struck him; in the same movement, however, the gunmen revealed their positions to him, and he fired twice, killing both of them. He then dashed back over to his pack, split open by a bullet and spilled onto the earth, and saw that the jar of pitch had ben broken. He drew his tinderbox and struck up a flame, tossing it onto the tar. Instantly, violently, a flame sprung to life and began to spread up the grassy knoll.

Hans stepped back and watched it burn, hoping he'd given Elsa and Odette enough time.


	19. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

 _The Celestians adopted a bastardized version of the Khevant culture in many respects, but they did not take the Khevant pantheon. So Nedemrir and Desit faded into the recesses of dusty tomes and long memories like my own. Yet still I am left to wonder whether we might have learned from their example. How much of Everdark's strength comes from the faith that we imbue in it?_

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _a private journal_

* * *

The Hall of Triumph,

the Sea of Stars

February 24th, 1844

The Armir Siddarthus stood at the edge of the Hall of Triumph, where the marble gave abruptly away to an endless expanse of golden clouds, lit from underneath by a perpetual sun. He had always admired the Domain of Glory, but he had never set foot in it before today. Dotting the cloudscape were intricate spires, the uppermost reaches of grand palaces that yearned for the sky. Here was the home of the immortals who had once been in Tevarion the Sunmaker's portfolio, deities and demigods devoted to triumph in honorable warfare, to nobility, and to other similar things.

Most of these lesser immortals had been exterminated by now. Siddarthus turned and walked back across the rich marble floor towards the rest of the gathered immortals. They numbered just over twenty in total, but only two of them were Illinir. The distinction was a subtle one, but quite important; compared to their fully immortal cousins, Armir were rather weak.

Illinir were the original immortals, the ones who had been borne into existence along with the Sea of Stars. They were considered gods, if mortals prayed to them. Armir came into existence in one of two ways: some were born of the union between a mortal and an immortal, and some were created when a mortal was granted a dominion in the Sea of Stars. Siddarthus was one of the former, and a relatively weak one at that, as he had been born to a third-generation Armir and a human. Compared to many of the beings currently in the Hall of Triumph, he could hardly even be considered an immortal.

"We do not have much time," the Illinir Venitia was saying. The angelic woman bent light around her in a spectacular, fractal rainbow. "Everdark will arrive soon to meet our challenge. We must be prepared to fight."

Not for the first time, Siddarthus wondered whether there was time to escape from this. When he had made the decision to cast his fate with the new mistress of the Domain of Glory, it had seemed that his death was all but assured, anyway. It hadn't been brave to stand up to Everdark, it had been the only option. But by now, Siddarthus had begun to hear whispers that the God of Darkness had been merciful to some of those who submitted themselves to it. That it considered the act of taking an immortal's life to be a last resort, something to be avoided if said immortal could be convinced to join another cause.

"What if the God of Darkness brings an army?" One of the Armir said. Siddarthus couldn't remember his name. "We only number so many. We could be overwhelmed."

"Oh, an army won't be necessary."

Siddarthus gasped and turned to see a dark form coalescing at the edge of the Hall of Glory. Like ink in water, its strange, twisting trails spun together and then materialized into the God of Darkness itself. It stood tall, carrying the wicked scythe that it used to reap souls. Siddarthus had heard tale of the weight that Everdark's presence put upon you, tightening your throat and making it hard to breathe, but nothing had prepared him for this moment. He was hardly capable of shaping powerful magic on his best days – how could he possibly hope to prevail now?

"Everdark _can_ be beaten," Venitia said, stepping forwards from the rest of the immortals and drawing a brilliant, silvery blade. She pointed it at the aberrant creature standing some yards away from her. "It has been before, by the Protector of ages old. And now there is a new Protector, one who will guide us to victory against this foul creature that masquerades as a god!"

"Unfortunately for you, it is inconsequential whether I believe myself a god or not," Everdark said, beginning to pace a wide circle. "It is the _humans_ who pay worship to me, who give me my strength. I'm hardly a part of the equation."

"You are a deceiver and a spreader of lies!" The other Illinir shouted, stepping forwards to stand by Venitia. Andolin was the same age as the other Illinir, of course – they all were, having been created at the beginning of time with the rest of the Sea of Stars – but he chose to present the form of an old man, with a white beard and stately robes. "And you must be destroyed! With our combined strength, we will bring about your ruin!"

"You speak also of the Protector," Everdark said, eyes glittering with malice. "But you do not know the truth about Ashanerat."

Siddarthus began to feel as if his mind was ensorcelled. He felt slow, and his fear seemed to paradoxically melt away, replaced with a cold sense of emptiness. He had been born nearly two thousand years after Ashanerat's time – indeed, there were few Armir alive who personally remembered the days of the last Protector. Yet still, his knowledge of Ashanerat, confirmed time and time again across many life ages of men, felt complete. He knew that she had banished Everdark to the shadow with the legendary sword Lightbringer. He knew that she had given her life to do it, spending her last breath magically inscribing the Protector's Oath onto the great stele that the Oathkeepers of men would go on to preserve for millennia, awaiting patiently the day when the Protector would return. He knew these things to be true.

So why did he suddenly feel a strange, insidious doubt?

"Yes… you begin to see, now, coming to doubt for the first time the untruths that have been forced upon you for far too long… you are coming back to me, now. You see it," Everdark said, and in that moment, Siddarthus realized that the god standing before him was right.

"Ashanerat did not defeat me. She could not muster the strength to even challenge me. She was little more than a symbol, a touching reminder that it is humanity's pride which fails long after their kingdoms and their faith. She was arrogant!" Everdark cried out, stamping the end of its scythe onto the marble. "She believed that she could defeat me by winning petty squabbles, turning aside my hordes from her beloved city and managing to prolong the death of her people. She was wrong."

Siddarthus wondered how he could not have seen the truth before. It was almost as if his eyes had been opened for the first time.

"While the rest of Celestus's consulate formulated a plan to forestall me, Ashanerat refused to comply. She did not want to admit that she was not strong enough to challenge me, and so she squandered the lives of her people for weeks while she delayed her choice. Eventually, even Ashanerat realized the err of her ways, and she became to ashamed to deny the truth any longer. So she allowed Circu the Learner to give his life in a ritual that would bind me to a fractured demiplane for over five thousand years.

"But not only did Circu give his life, he salted his own line of archmagi forever. No longer is there, nor will there ever be, another Learner. You wonder why humanity has lost so much of its ancestral knowledge? You wonder why their spellcasters are like children, stumbling around in the dark? The blame lies with your beloved Ashanerat. And how can you expect the Siguror girl to do any better? She has no one to guide her, and she has not the wisdom to tread this path alone."

"No!" Andolin the Wise shouted, stepping forwards and brandishing his staff. A brilliant light gleamed on the end, and for a moment, Everdark recoiled with surprise. "We will hear no more of your poisonous words, foul creature! Go back to the shadow!"

With that, there was a resounding boom, and Andolin's staff let out a brilliant beam of light at Everdark. It struck the god, and for a moment Everdark became insubstantial, formless smoke again, swirling about in the air and them rematerializing a few feet away from where it had been. The God of Darkness threw out a hand, and in response twisting shadows burst from the ground about Andolin and grasped at his legs.

The Illinir struggled against them, grunting and striking at the shadows with his staff, and now Venitia joined the fight, striking at the shapeless darkness with her brilliant blade. Andolin was freed, and he shot another bolt of light at Everdark. This time, the God of Darkness was ready, and it twisted its scythe to intercept the beam along the edge of its blade. The scythe seemed to consume the radiance, and around Everdark blackness began to spread like ink trails through the air. Andolin groaned with exertion as the two became locked like this, each holding the other's energy at bay.

Siddarthus was torn from his stupor, and he felt a sudden awe at the strength of the two combatants. He had never felt magic so powerful that it vibrated in the air before, but this was practically a duel between gods. He realized that what Venitia had said was true. With their combined strength, they really could win.

"For the Protector!" Venitia cried out, charging Everdark with her blade held skyward.

To his surprise, Siddarthus found himself charging after her, repeating the battle cry. There was a surge of movement as the other Armir followed Venitia's example. The Illinir reached the God of Darkness first, thrusting her sword towards its chest. Everdark became incorporeal again and flowed backwards, reappearing and striking its scythe into the ground. A hemisphere of inky wisps erupted into the air, forming a barrier around itself.

"Betrayer of the First Generation, Fiend of Hell's Fire, you will not prevail!" Andolin drew a mighty spell from the space between worlds, and a bolt of lightning streaked down from the heavens to strike the God of Darkness.

It struck the barrier with a mighty _crack_ and a spiral of flame, blinding Siddarthus for a moment. When his vision cleared he saw, to his dismay, that Everdark was still standing.

"The Illinir have grown old," Everdark said, raking its gaze around Venitia and the Armir who stood at the edge of the swirling barrier of darkness. "Their power recedes with time. They are no longer the masters of magic because they refuse to learn the lessons that men can teach them."

Venitia slashed at the barrier with her sword, and where they met there was a flash of light and an explosive sound. Siddarthus and the rest of the Armir dared not approach.

"Bah!" Andolin shouted, and a crackling ray sprung into life between his staff and Everdark's scythe again.

"Surely, you all know of what I speak?" Everdark said insidiously. "When the Illinir gifted their magic to men, they were disturbed by the innovations of humanity. Rather than embrace the art of tensing, they condemned it, calling it 'black magic' and casting its users out of the Sea of Stars. In their arrogance, these Illinir did not realize that they had much to learn from the 'lesser' mortals."

Venitia struck at the barrier again, to no avail.

"I have used the blessings of tensing to become more powerful than any other user of magic. I am the stronger than anything that has ever been, or ever will be. You were defeated before you ever thought to stand against me, because in your small minds you cannot _conceive_ of things that I can do with magic."

The barrier suddenly grew, spreading outwards and engulfing Venitia and the Armir who stood closest to Everdark. Siddarthus's eyes widened as the Armir disintegrated, everything except their bones burning to ash. Venitia was stronger than the Armir but even she was brought to her knees, crying out as her sword clattered to the floor. Siddarthus stumbled backwards, ready to run, but the field of black did not spread further. Andolin's spell faltered at the sight of the devastation, and a sudden silence fell over the area.

"Please," Everdark said, its voice sounding startlingly remorseful. "It is not my wish to slay any more of you. There is a place for anyone and everyone who has magical strength in my empire. I am not some force of wanton destruction; rest assured, your lives _will_ be spared, if only you swear allegiance to our shared cause."

Siddarthus found himself nodding. The God of Darkness was magnanimous in victory; he would be a fool to deny its mercy. It was the only way.

"Yes!" He cried out. "Spare me!"

For the first time, Everdark's eyes moved to rest upon Siddarthus, and he felt a fresh wave of terror. The dark thing's eyes pressed upon him like leaden weights.

"And who is this?" Everdark asked, voice soft.

"NO!" Siddarthus heard Andolin yell, but Siddarthus was heedless. He did not want to die.

"M-my name is Siddarthus. I am an Armir."

Everdark seemed to be musing to itself, and suddenly Siddarthus felt a foreign presence in his mind. It was the face of the infinite, something more powerful and complete than anything he had ever known, like an endless expanse of black fire.

"Hmm… one of no consequence, I can see," Everdark said, frowning slightly. "You are far from a powerful wizard, Siddarthus. What do you believe that you can offer me and my own?"

Siddarthus tried to gulp, but found that he could not swallow.

"I… I…"

Everdark sighed. "That's alright. We can always _find_ a use for you."

"NO!" Venitia was the one who cried out now as she slowly dragged herself to her feet. Her entire body was shaking as she reached for her sword. "You will _not_ claim another soul!"

Everdark swung its scythe without turning to look at Venitia. There was a gleaming flash of light, and then the Illinir's head tumbled free, turning over several times before it hit the ground. Venitia's body remained standing for a few sickening moments before it toppled to the ground, spilling blood onto the beautiful marble floors of the Hall of Triumph. Everdark swept its gaze around the rest of the immortals.

"You will find my mercy to be expansive but finite. Does anyone else wish to test its boundaries?"

None did.

xxx

"Elsa! Elsa!" Odette knelt before her unresponsive wife, voice growing more panicked with each passing second.

Elsa gasped, abruptly coming back as if her head had just burst out from underneath the water. Before she could speak, she turned and retched onto the ground, an unpleasant, thin bile. Afterwards, her entire body shook, and she felt ill.

"Elsa! What just happened?"

Elsa realized vaguely that Odette was shouting to make herself heard. And why was it so hot? She slowly drew her gaze up from the ground and saw that the air was dense with smoke. She realized why she was having a hard time breathing. The hillside was already on fire.

"The horses," she croaked out, letting Odette help her to her feet. "Where are the horses? We have to get out of here…"

"They're gone!" Odette said, her brow knitted deep with worry. "They bolted when they smelled the smoke!"

Elsa's wife turned and started to lead the pair of them back towards the streambed. Elsa remembered that they had followed it to get where they were at, right now; it would lead them back to the forest. Was the forest safe, or would the fire spread to it as well?

Elsa's mind was starting to come back to her, first slowly and then in a rush. She realized that dealing with fires was something of a specialty of hers.

Elsa reached inside and drew upon her magic, extending her hands to either side and shooting jets of cold onto the blaze on either side of them. There was a blast of hot vapor, and then an abrupt chill as the air around them grew clear and cold. Both Elsa and Odette gasped unsteady breaths, and then they started to move again, Elsa chilling the space around them as they ran.

"What happened?" Odette called out again, voice still fearful. "Why did you fall?"

What _had_ happened? Elsa almost didn't know the answer. It was like trying to remember a dream after she'd just woken up; she had already forgotten the details and was left only with a singular impression.

"Something horrible," she said uncertainly. "Something… something in the Sea of Stars. I don't know how I knew. I don't know how I know."

Odette shot a worried glance at Elsa but didn't reply. For a few minutes, Elsa fell into a strange rhythm beyond time or comprehension; there was only the fire, and the magic from within her that stood between them and death. The hot and the cold faded from intense, visceral sensations to a strange numbness.

The forest was on fire, now. They reached the trees only to find that they were already ablaze, and they had to keep going. Odette seemed to know where to go, and Elsa followed the direction that she pointed. They went on.

Finally, they reached a river, this one still flush with water. Elsa barely remembered collapsing into its current, sinking below the surface and shocking herself back into the world. She was back, and her entire body screamed with exertion. She allowed herself to float there, underneath the water, until her lungs cried out, and she swum back up and took gasping breaths of the air. Her eyes focused on the hills beyond, black with smoke and red with deep, angry flames.

Odette burst to the surface beside her, gasping for breath. Elsa waited until she caught her breath to pull her into a hard kiss, letting her fear carry over into passion and smashing her face into Odette's. They'd started to sink again when Elsa pulled away and started to tread water again, paddling to the far shore of the river some thirty feet away. Odette followed her, and they finally pulled themselves up onto the opposite shore, waterlogged and breathing heavily.

Elsa turned to the northeast and saw, beyond the flames and the smoke, the city of Milan in the distance. They even farther away from the city now than they had been when they were laying the caltrops. Stranded by a blaze and an army, separated from Hans and Kariena.

Hans and Kariena.

"Do you know if Hans and Kariena are alright?" Elsa said, turning to look at Odette.

Her wife's hair was plastered to her face in long brown streaks, her bun having come undone at some point during their flight from the fire. Her glasses were gone, Elsa realized. Had they fallen off? Or had she opted not to wear them today? Elsa couldn't remember.

"I don't know," Odette said, frowning. "I hope they are. Lighting the fire so soon means that they ran into trouble."

"How are we going to get back to the city?" Elsa said, glancing left, and then right. As far as she could see in either direction, there was smoke, and beyond that, there would be the army moving to encircle the city.

It seemed clear that the fire had grown more intense than they had intended; despite the morning's rain, it had grown into a formidable blaze. They had intended to threaten the enemy supply caravans and maybe destroy some of their rearguard, but the fire that now raged in the hills posed a serious threat to the entire force.

There was no telling what their enemy would do now; would they break camp and run northwards, past Milan to escape the blaze? Would they attack the city walls in desperation, thinking that if they managed to get beyond the walls, they would be safe? Or would they do something else, entirely?

Odette shook her head. "I think that it's going to be a little while before we make it back," she said. "Even if they break camp and try to get past the city away from the fire, we'll still have to wait for the fire to burn down so that we actually have a path back to the city. We… I think that we're stuck out here, for the time being."

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if the fire was a good plan," Elsa said.

"Maybe it's one of those things that looks better on paper than it does in practice," Odette said, smiling ruefully.


	20. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

 _But these are just the ruminations of an old man. Ashanerat still does not wish to aid us in performing the entrapment ritual. The Protector still believes that she can stop Everdark herself. I am not so optimistic._

 _The Bard Rhennalus,_

 _a private journal_

* * *

Milan,

Lombardy

February 24th, 1844

Kariena and Hans made it back to the city first. Kariena had reached the little orchard after she split from Hans and discovered that the enemy commanders had indeed set up camp there. She watched them clandestinely from the boughs of a tree for twenty minutes or so before she smelled smoke and turned back to see fire already spreading across the hillside. Hans had run into trouble.

Well, Hans was more than capable of protecting himself.

So Kariena slipped away and made it back to the cover of the forest, where she found the pair of horses that she and Hans had been using growing skittish and wild. She'd waited for Hans as long as she could, growing more nervous as the minutes ticked by, and just before she was going to cut her losses and bring the horses back with her to the city, Hans had burst back into the clearing.

He asked her where Elsa and Odette were; she had no idea. But there was no more time to wait, so they had to ride back to the city without them.

Now, half an hour later, Kariena and Hans stood around a table in the city's mayoral manor with the burgomaster and several of his confidants.

"I'm growing rather nervous about this whole ordeal," the fleshy, pink-faced man said, dabbing at his brow. "That fire has grown out of proportion, and they haven't yet broken camp and scattered. What if they decide to attack the walls?"

"Well, then we'll have to fight them," Hans said matter-of-factly. "In some ways, it would be a boon, because they wouldn't have time to set up their artillery first. They'd just be sending wave after wave of men into the walls in the hope that eventually we break."

Burgomaster Fellin did not look he considered that a boon in disguise.

"And what of the other wizards?" he said. "When will they return? We rely upon them to aid in our defense."

"Elsa and Odette will be back soon," Kariena said, though she was beginning to grow somewhat worried. How could they possibly not? They were too competent and powerful to be claimed by a simple fire, right? "But we can't do anything to accelerate the process, I'm afraid. We just have to wait for them."

Fellin gulped visibly and turned to one of the other men in the room, a stiff military commander. "Very well, then. Musso, go speak to the men on the walls. I'm sure that they could use some… some words of courage right now."

"Very well, sir. We will report back to you the instant we see movement from the enemy lines." He turned and left.

"And the evacuations," Fellin said, turning to another of his men. "We have to move up the timetable. They must begin immediately."

The man nodded crisply. "Yes, sir. Will you be among us, sir?"

Fellin hesitated.

Kariena shot a glance at Hans, who met her eyes peripherally. Both of them had recommended that the mayor join those fleeing the city; he had no expertise in the domain of war, and besides it would reassure some of those leaving the city if they had some sort of authority figure with them. But he was a proud man, like most men in power are, and it was his initial stance that he would stay to see his military through the fight for the city. Now that the danger was immediate, however, he seemed to waver.

"Perhaps you should, Master Fellin," Hans said, his voice now gentler than it had been earlier. "This city will not be fit for man nor beast in a few hours' time."

"But… my people…" he murmured, his face seeming to be without conviction.

"Your people will need a leader to guide them if this city falls," Kariena volunteered. "With all due respect, sir, you will be far more useful to _them_ than you will be to us."

Fellin looked down for a moment, and then nodded. "Very well. Yes. I will leave with my family. My wife will be relieved to hear. Is there anything else?"  
He looked around the room, but it seemed there was nothing else to say.

"Very well, then. Dismissed."

xxx

Commander Lopez stood at the edge of the little orchard that the army's mobile command had been set up in, gazing towards the smoking columns rising from the fields. In a matter of moments, his forces would break their camp and begin to advance on the city. It had been that, or give up on trying to take Milan altogether and trying to march past it deeper into the countryside, but the captains had made convincing arguments to Lopez that it would be unwise to get out so far ahead of the supply lines. Milanese forces would have an easy time of capturing their caravans as they tried to follow after the army into the countryside, and Everdark's forces were still having a difficult time keeping control of the coast.

"Commander?" Came a voice from behind.

Lope turned and accepted his pipe from the man that stood behind him and set it between his teeth. He accepted a match and carefully touched it to the tobacco, puffing a few times.

"What is it, soldier?" Lopez strode back to his own tent, one of three in the clearing. He walked past a groom doing his best to keep the horses calm. They were upwind from the smoke, but the horses weren't blind; they could see the smoke and fire, and they were growing agitated.

"We've just received word that the wizard Ardentum will be arriving soon, sir."

"What? Why in bloody hell is he coming here?"

"I don't know, sir." The man looked frightened. "Do you think that the master is displeased –"

"I have no fucking clue," Lopez said, "but I do know that I don't need that fucking pompous fairy boy coming here and telling me how to do my fucking job."

The man gulped and nodded again. "And, um…"

"What is it?" Lopez said, trying not to take his frustration out on this man. He'd always hated commanding officers who did that.

"Will we be breaking camp to move with the rest of the army?"

They didn't need to, since they were separated from the fire by a river wide enough that it was unlikely to ever reach them, and in any case, it was progressing with the wind, which was away from them. But the further they got from the bulk of their forces, the more difficult it would be to formulate any sort of effective strategy. Lopez hated the defenseless feeling that came from being without a strategy.

"Yes," he said. "We can't afford to let them leave us behind. Tell the captains to form –"

He was cut off by a dull thud and an abrupt scream. He whirled around and saw the body of one of his captains tumble backwards onto the ground, a translucent knife sticking out of the center of his head. There was movement from the trees, and a young woman dropped lithely from their branches onto the ground, landing in a graceful crouch and throwing her cloak backwards with one hand. She raised piercingly teal eyes to meet his own, and for a moment he was paralyzed by fear.

xxx

Elsa called Rimeheart to her hand as she stood, and it materialized with a puff of frost as a long, thin knife. She started to dash across the camp towards the commander, ignoring the men to her sides. They were like zombies anyways, paralyzed by fear; they just stood and watched her.

The man beside the commander stepped between them and reached to his side for his pistol, but he was moving far too slowly. Elsa swung the knife in a wide arc at the edge of her reach, severing the man's hand into two pieces. She tumbled diagonally and sprung up beside him, her dagger glinting once in the air as he cried out in pain. His body collapsed forwards, severed from his legs just above the knees.

The commander stumbled backwards, ashen-faced. "No…" he moaned softly, dreadfully. "They said you wouldn't be here."

Elsa tried not to listen to him. She hated it when they sounded afraid of her. She dashed towards him and skewered him through the chest with Rimeheart, ripping it out and kicking him to the ground. His body crystallized with ice and hung there, halfway fallen, his back several inches above the grass.

Elsa turned back to the rest of the captains and saw a half-dozen guns pointed towards her.

 _It's about time,_ she thought as they started shooting. She threw out her hand and the bullets froze in place, stopping in midair amidst little explosive trails of fire. _It gets so much easier once it's self-defense._

She drew upon her magic and seven bolts of ice were drawn into creation. Elsa brought them into the world and sent them at the men shooting at her. She closed her eyes to the cacophony of screams, and when she opened them again the orchard was still. She sighed and strode back into the camp, poking her head into the tents one by one to make sure that she'd eliminated the entirety of the command.

Finally satisfied that she was done, she stepped back into the center of the orchard and looked around. "All clear," she called out. "You can come out now, Odette."

She heard no response. Frowning, she swept her gaze around the line of trees. Odette had been just outside the clearing a moment ago. Where had she gotten off to? Elsa tried to convince herself that she wasn't worried as she turned in a circle.

"Odette? Where are y –"

Behind her stood a beautiful young man with white hair and clear blue eyes. His skin seemed to emit a soft glow that was very familiar to Elsa. And he held Odette to him, a gleaming knife pressed to her neck.

Elsa felt a chill.

"That was an impressive display," the man said, smiling amiably. "You're very strong."

Odette's eyes were afraid, and that terrified Elsa more than anything else ever had.

"Who are you?" Elsa said, mouth feeling dry. Her head was hot, and she couldn't think clearly. Her hands were shaking.

"I am an Armir, like yourself," he said, still smiling. "My name is Ardentum. A half-immortal, though I do not have the honor of commanding an entire Dominion in the Sea of Stars. I must say, that's quite the accomplishment for someone as young as yourself."

Elsa gritted her teeth. "What the hell do you want?"

"Many things," he said, "not all of which you can give me."

"Let her go," Elsa said, but her voice quickly lost conviction. "What do I have to do to make you let her go?"

"No, Elsa, don't –" Odette began, but Ardentum pulled the knife more tightly against her neck, and her voice cut off with a whimper of fear.

Elsa got the sense that Ardentum knew what he was doing, threatening Odette. That she wouldn't be able to heal from a cut from that knife.

"That's a fine question, isn't it?" Ardentum said. "My master would be very displeased if it learned that I had the opportunity to eliminate an archmagi but passed up on the opportunity."

Elsa felt a sharp, metallic terror. He was right. There was nothing that she could offer him. Of course he was going to kill Odette. But… but if he was going to kill her, why not do it immediately? Why speak to Elsa first?

"There is something," Elsa said, injecting her voice with as much confidence as she could muster. Her fingertips were cold with magic, but she knew that it would be stupid to try to fight him. All he had to do was let one finger slip. "Otherwise you'd already have done it."

Ardentum's grin broadened. "Yes, there is. You see, I'm not like the others. The others who lack vision, who lack the strength to imagine a world without the master."

Elsa frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Novendon poisons the followers of Everdark with utopian lies, fanciful tales of a world where Everdark rewards its most faithful supporters in victory and we all live immortal lives with the accoutrements of a god. Most believe him. But I can see _clearly._ I know that Everdark has no allies, only tools. I know I am nothing but a weapon to the God of Darkness, to be kept faithfully by its side until Everdark is ready to cast me into the filth as well."

Elsa frowned. "You… you want to join us?"

"Of course not," Ardentum said, laughing once. "Fighting Everdark directly is futile. It is a noble death, but also a certain one. And I want to live. No, I want something else. I want you to join me."

Elsa stared into this man's eyes and realized that he was sincere. In fact, it seemed that he hadn't spoken a lie since they'd first began speaking.

"You are the most powerful wizard alive, Elsa Siguror. Once you complete your oaths, no mere mortal will be able to stop you. Everdark fears you, in ways that it did not even fear the last Protector. You are threatening because unlike Ashanerat, your powers are inexplicably linked to Everdark's. Have you ever wondered why the air seems to grow cold in the God of Darkness's presence?"

Elsa had a strange, dawning realization. She remembered the conversation she'd had with Montaigne, so many months ago, about her father's experience with a witch in France that had left his firstborn daughter cursed and provided the gateway for Everdark's influence to re-enter the world. Could Ardentum be right? Cold and darkness went hand in hand the same way that fire and light did.

Elsa turned her gaze to Odette. Her wife no longer looked afraid. She looked… thoughtful, somehow, as if she'd forgotten the threat to her life, but her interest was piqued by Ardentum's words nonetheless. It was very fitting.

"I don't know what you think that I can do, Ardentum, but I cannot defeat Everdark alone. I doubt that I could even with your help. If it were that easy, we'd already have done it."

"You're too interested in a fair fight," Ardentum said. "But the God of Darkness _does_ have weaknesses. It is too prideful. In its victory, it allows itself to become blinded, and in that blindness we find strength. It was so confident that it had claimed your mind forever that it made you an immortal. Now there is a legion of immortals in the Sea of Stars who claim you as their lord."

Elsa could suddenly hear Everdark's voice in her mind again, and she could see now the destruction that it had wrought upon the Hall of Triumph. She wasn't sure that there were many left who considered her a lord after what the God of Darkness had done.

"Once Everdark's victory is all but assured, it will grow complacent, and weak. There _will_ be an opportunity to strike, and with you by my side, we _will_ destroy the God of Darkness. I have foreseen it."

Elsa was taken aback by the conviction in his words. If Everdark got even the smallest indication of what Ardentum had spoken about to her, it would destroy him. He was risking everything by saying this to her. He… he really believed what he was saying. He really wanted to try to do this. Elsa bit her lower lip.

"Set me free, Elsa Siguror," Ardentum said. He almost seemed to be pleading with her. "Together we can destroy the ultimate evil."

"I can't." Elsa said, voice cracking as she said the words. "I can't leave this world behind. I'm not going to leave everyone I care about behind because it might give me a better chance of killing Everdark. I'm not going to pay lip service to the atrocities that it is committing so that I might cut its throat in the end. I'm not going to condemn the population of an entire world, even if it is for the greater good."

Ardentum raised his other hand. "Wait a moment, now. You haven't heard my terms."

"Your terms?" Elsa said, frowning.

"Yes," the Armir replied, twisting the knife slightly in his hand. "Join me, or I kill this lovely young lady."

xxx

Hans sat with his back to the stone crenellations of the wall, bullets snapping all around him. He hissed as stone shrapnel slashed his upper arm and shoulder. He waited a few moments for the sound of the gunfire to fade before he turned around and fired three shots from a bolt-action rifle into the churning sea of men below the walls.

There was a steady roar unlike anything Hans had heard before, the shouts of the enemy augmented, perhaps, by desperation and fear. The blaze had spread through the field that would have been their camp, and now it pressed them into the killing field before the city walls, and it was still, mercilessly advancing. The army below the city walls continued to press inwards, forming ever-more a crushing, shapeless mass that beat against the stone.

There was a heavy boom that accompanied the ram crashing against the gate. Both the gates were under assault, but the main would probably be the first to give way, as here was the densest concentration of the enemy soldiers. They pounded against the massive wooden doors with an iron-headed ram, standing right in the hail of fire from dozens of Milanese soldiers upon the walls. Bodies were growing so thick about the ram that new men had to climb over piles of the dead to take it up and continue the assault on the gates.

Hans wondered, as he quickly reloaded his rifle, whether the mound of bodies would grow so tall as to allow the enemy to climb the battlements. They were only twenty feet tall, and it seemed in places that the piles of the dead were already as tall as a man.

"Hans!" Kariena shouted, crawling along the pathway beneath the stone crenellations towards him. She shoved a fist-sized black ball into his hand, and then drew a packet of matches out to light its fuse. "The gate's starting to splinter!"

Hans was directly above it, which didn't give him a good vantage point to see its condition. He nodded, and then tossed the bomb backwards over the wall. A few seconds later there was a boom and the sound of many screams. All along the walls, the rest of the city's defenders began to throw bombs of their own. They didn't have many, only enough for maybe a minute of bombardment, but it seemed that they were better off using them sooner than later. The Milanese defenders were underequipped in many ways, actually – the Unified Empire had been prepared for a siege, and they'd been counting on having hours, or even days, to deploy resources to the city.

Not for the first time, Hans wished that Anna had been here to tell them that their 'light the fields on fire' plan had been stupid.

 _When did Anna become the wise one?_

"Alright, let's get off the wall then," Hans shouted back to Kariena. "We need to be there to push back the first wave through the doors."

Kariena nodded, and they started to crawl back towards the stairs that would lead them down to the courtyard below. There was another, massive bang, and they heard the sound of wood splintering, followed by the new sound of screams and gunfire from the courtyard. They both stood once they reached the stairs and started to jog down them, Hans slinging the rifle onto his back and drawing his familiar pistols. He spun each of their chambers once to make sure that they were loaded, a nervous tic that he'd never really gotten rid of. For some reason he'd always feared ending up in a gunfight only to find that his pistols were empty.

They reached the ground and ran to the edge of the square, positioning themselves by a line of soldiers huddled behind sandbags and wooden sawhorses built into a barricade. There was now a hole, maybe half a foot wide and two feet tall, in one of the wooden gates, and for a moment the ram had been forgotten as enemy soldiers fired through the opening into the square. Hans tried to line up a shot, but they were too far away, and he didn't want to waste any bullets.

"You know, I had never been shot at before I started following you around, Hans," Kariena said over the din.

Hans shrugged. "Well, you _were_ a thief, so it was only a matter of time."

 _Boom._ The hole widened.

"Yeah, but for some reason I still think that it happens more now than it ever would have if I just stayed in New York City."

"Trouble would have found its way to you, eventually," Hans said. "Seeing as right now New York City is more or less the base camp for Everdark's forces. Basically the entire western hemisphere is gone at this point."

 _Boom._ The hole was practically large enough for a man now. Both Hans and Kariena ducked as another volley of cracks accompanied gunfire through the rend.

"Look, I was just trying to make an observational joke," Kariena said, smirking as she poked Hans with an elbow.

"I know. It's my job to make sure that you're never able to," Hans said, grinning back.

Hans heard another crash, and then a surge of blood-curdling cries as Everdark's men poured into the square. He held Kariena's gaze for one moment longer, in case it should be the last time he laid eyes on her. She leaned up and kissed him, briefly, and then the fight began.


	21. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

 _One of the books that I found in the Watcher's realm was different than the others. It was the only one that didn't seem to come from the past._

 _Hans_

* * *

Milan,

Lombardy

February 24th, 1844

"Follow me back into the light," Ardentum said, voice sounding strained. His eyes were impossibly bright, clearer than anything Elsa had ever seen. "You don't belong here. Not anymore."

Elsa was awash with panic. There was no way out but to do what Ardentum asked. Letting him kill Odette just wasn't an option. But… but he was wrong. The Sea of Stars was not her home, and it never would be. A grand destiny and a divine domain didn't change who she was, not really. She swallowed painfully and slowly nodded. Odette remained silent, eyes cast downwards. Elsa felt an irrational and overwhelming sadness that Odette wasn't meeting her gaze.

"Ardentum," she said slowly, voice barely more than a whisper. "Taking a stand against Everdark is very brave. But you don't have to do it like this. Listen to me."

Something in Ardentum's eyes seemed to shift, if only for a moment before they hardened again. He tightened his grip on the tensing blade that he held to Odette's neck, and she let out an involuntary hiss as it drew a bead of blood. Elsa felt a surge of adrenaline, but she forced her face to remain calm, her body to remain still and steady as she held both of her hands out towards the Armir in a placating gesture. They were downwind from the fire threatening Milan, but she was beginning to smell the smoke again. If the wind lulled, or switched directions, then the fire would start reaching towards them again. Was that the sound of gunfire?

She hoped that Everdark's army hadn't been so desperate as to attack.

"Please, Ardentum. Think about it. You and I would be stronger together than either one of us alone. But all of us, all of us together, are stronger than just you and me. Please, just put the knife down, and let's talk about this."

"You don't _understand,"_ Ardentum said savagely, wildness creeping into his face. "I have foreseen doom for you all if you do not abandon this fool's enterprise. You cannot stand directly against the God of Darkness. You will all be destroyed! You will lose everything you care about, Elsa Siguror!"

"You've… you've foreseen it?" Elsa asked softly.

"Yes," he replied. "My blessing and my curse is the ability to see in many uncertain futures. You must trust me when I say that the only reality where you defeat Everdark is the one I am offering to you now."

Elsa felt a chill.

"No," she said softly.

"Yes," Ardentum replied. "This one here dies first in most of the futures. In some, your friend Hans betrays you at the end."

"You're lying," she said, feeling a stinging in her eyes.

"I cannot lie," he said. "I see in fractals, thousands of different truths in perfect clarity. Each is a path that reality can take, but only one will come to pass, borne of the millions of idiosyncratic decisions that we all make."

Ardentum abruptly shifted the position that he was holding Odette, moving slightly backwards. A split second later, so in tandem with Ardentum's movements that they almost appeared to happen at the same time, Odette tried to slam her head backwards into his. She stumbled when she didn't connect with him, and he stepped forwards to grapple her tightly again.

"She tries that in most of the realities that I can see."

Elsa groaned inwardly. "We don't win in any of them?" She'd always known that it was a long shot, but hearing the odds laid out like that was still crushing.

"Just the one," Ardentum said, reaching around Odette to extend a hand.

"What if… what if we all go with you?" Elsa asked. "Have you seen it?"

Ardentum's eyes seemed now to reflect sadness. "There is no such future," he said. "You are the only one who I am able to convince to join me. And even then, only in a tiny fraction of the possible futures. Your friends… your friends are determined to fight this losing war."

Elsa was disturbed to hear that among her friends, she was only one who would break. Joining Ardentum had begun to sound possible to her, even if it would tear her apart. If the only way to save the world was to abandon it, then who was she to doom it with her own inaction? If she sat by while an opportunity to fulfill her role as the Protector presented itself, then she would be no better than the wizards who joined the service of the God of Darkness. But now, hearing that her friends would rather die than abandon the earth, she realized that this was a decision that she could not make. She thought in that instant of Anna and knew that she could not leave this all behind.

Elsa turned her gaze back to Ardentum, and then the hand stretched out towards her.

"I cannot see the future," she said. "But I know myself, and I know that I would never willingly join you in a future where you kill Odette. You aren't actually going to kill her. You never intended to. So, no. I will not forsake this world, Ardentum. I will not leave the people that I love to die without me."

Ardentum's eyes widened. Elsa couldn't tell if it was anger or something else that he felt, for his face betrayed nothing.

"No," he said softly, and then exploded with rage, roaring, "you're damning this world, Protector! You're just like the last one!"

A tear streaked down Elsa's cheek. "If I stay here, then at least I will die fighting to protect my sister. If I return to the Sea of Stars with you, then she will already be lost."

For a horrible moment, Ardentum looked as if he _was_ going to draw his tending blade through Odette's throat in a fit of rage. But then his face composed itself again, and he laughed mirthlessly. He threw the knife to the ground, where it stuck point-first into the earth some feet away. He stepped back from Odette, and nodded, almost more to himself than anyone else.

"You were my way out, Elsa Siguror," he said, voice hollow. "If I see you again, I hope that you are the first to break free of my visions."

Then he closed his eyes and turned his head slightly upwards. The soft glow rising from the immortal's skin intensified to a brilliant incandescence, and then there was a prismatic burst, a kaleidoscopic array of all the colors of the rainbow bending into the light around them. A warm energy passed over Odette and Elsa, and then their vision cleared to see that the Armir was gone.

Elsa rushed forwards and threw her arms around Odette, burying her face into her wife's neck. Odette held her back, and they were silent for several long seconds. Odette was the first to speak, voice apprehensive and muted.

"I… thank you. I'm not proud of the way that I wanted you to act," she said. "I'm afraid to die. I convinced myself that you'd be able to find your way back to us, somehow, if you went with him. I was a coward."

Elsa gripped the back of Odette's head and felt the steady thump of Odette's heart, pressed against her chest. Ever since Odette had bound their lifelines, Elsa had found that their hearts always beat in perfect tandem. The gravity of what she had just done crashed down upon her, and Elsa began to shake uncontrollably.

"No. No, Odette, I shouldn't have done that," Elsa said. "I was gambling with your life, and it is not mine to give. I shouldn't have been so confident that he wouldn't hurt you. I was playing a hunch, and I easily could have just been wrong."

Elsa didn't know what had come over her. She cared about Odette more than anyone else alive. Why had she been so willing to call Ardentum's bluff? It chilled her to think about.

Odette didn't reply to Elsa directly. Instead, she said, "Not everyone serving Everdark is a true believer. We got something out of this. If there are others like Ardentum, then we stand a chance of turning Eveerdark's supporters against it. That… that needs to be part of our plan, I think."

Elsa finally pulled back and forced herself to leave the orchard and gaze back towards the city. The sky was obscured by a thunderhead of smoke, so copious now that it cast an appearance of shadow and twilight to the land below, despite the fact that it was still only the early afternoon. The fire was no longer a massive and raging storm, however; it seemed to be burning down into several disparate brushfires that burned at the back of the swarming army that surrounded Milan. The countryside was scorched and blackened, left barren and raw in some places. The sound of violence carried to them even from here.

"What if he's right?" Elsa asked. "Do we even need a plan, if we don't have any chance of winning anyway? What if no matter what we try, we're doomed to give thousands of lives fighting over increasingly small and meaningless bits of land until we don't have anything left?"

Odette placed a hand on Elsa's shoulder. "Well, then I don't see why we shouldn't give the people who depend on us to protect them as much time as we possibly can."

Elsa didn't reply, but she eventually nodded.

"Now come on. Hans and Kariena can't hold that city forever."

xxx

"Boy," Hans said as an enemy soldier leapt over the barricade and ran a Milanese soldier through with a bayonet before Hans shot him in the back of the head, "we aren't going to be able to hold this city forever."

Kariena ducked around him and threw a knife over the barricade. There was a scream, and then she teleported to the falling corpse to tear it out and slash at a very surprised man who now stood beside her. Her knife slashed through the back of one of his knees, and he crumpled to the ground. Kariena teleported again, reappearing behind the barricade just as bullets snapped into the cobblestones where she'd been a moment before.

A man beside Hans took a bullet to the face, and Hans was splattered with an uncomfortable amount of his blood and brains.

"Give them a few more minutes," Kariena said. "They'll be back."

"I sure hope so," Hans said, raising the dead man's arm to wipe his face off on the man's sleeve. "Because we're running out of guys."

Hans and Kariena had been just two of several dozen men to intercept the enemy soldiers in the square just beyond the south gate, but they had dwindled to less than ten, huddled in two pockets on opposite sides of the open space. Hans was running low on bullets, too, so he figured that the other soldiers likely were as well. His back was to the barricade, and he looked around, back into the city streets.

"If we need to, we can fall back down that alleyway," he called out to Kariena over the din. She glanced over in the direction he pointed. "I checked it out this morning. It's pretty narrow; they'd only be able to follow in ones and twos, really."

The main difference between a bad escape route and a good one was how well it protected you from getting shot in the back. This one seemed middling to Hans, but there wasn't a wealth of options. The streets in this city weren't particularly wide, or straight, but all a pursuer needed was one good shot.

The barricade burst several yards down from Hans and Kariena, and instantly men began to pour through the breach. Hans twisted and unloaded the rest of his last pistol into the mob and then dropped it as two turned and began to charge him with bayonets raised. He twisted sideways as the first lunged towards him and drove his elbow into the man's neck, sending him to the ground. The next plunged his rifle at Hans's gut, and Hans went incorporeal for a moment, dark magic erupting to life in the air around him.

The man stumbled directly through Hans and fell to the ground just as he phased back in. Hans twisted around met eyes with Kariena, who was fighting off three men a short distance away. She slung one of her knives towards the fallen man, and it buried itself up to the hilt in the side of his head. Hans tore it out and walked over to the man he'd elbowed in the neck, who was crumpled onto the ground, clutching at his throat.

"Here, let me get that for you," Hans said, pounding the man into the ground before rolling him over and slitting his throat. Then Hans picked up the man's rifle and glanced back, tossing Kariena's knife back through the air.

It spun twice before the little witch materialized beside it and plucked it out of the air. She twisted and brought it down upon the last of the men she'd been fighting. He cried out once, and then fell.

Hans glanced back to the rend in the barricade. It was wide enough for two men to walk through at once – no point in trying to repair it. He turned and poked his head briefly over the barricade and was immediately met with the snap of bullets against the wood and puffs of sand where they hit the sandbags.

"We need to get out of here," Hans called back to Kariena. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her backside already disappearing down the alleyway he'd mentioned earlier.

"Nice to know she waited to make sure I was safe," he murmured to himself as he started after her.

He cast one more glance over his shoulder at the mouth of the narrow alleyway, stopping beside a circular brick building that appeared to be very old. He scanned the square for any Milanese uniforms left standing, and he was disheartened to find that there were none. They had been counting on a siege, and this had turned into a bloodbath.

 _We would have gotten a siege if we hadn't pulled the stupid trick with the fire,_ he reminded himself. The death toll rest squarely upon their shoulders. By the numbers, if they won the day, it would look like a great victory, trading men with their enemy on the order of ten to one. But war was only a game of numbers to the most hardened of souls, and Hans liked to think himself better than that. More enlightened. _Thank God we got the civilians evacuated, at least._

He turned and ran after Kariena before he was noticed by the advancing enemy soldiers.

xxx

An hour later, he and Kariena were barricaded with about three dozen other soldiers in the town's clock tower, which was the agreed-upon last redoubt in the case that the city was taken. The constant sound of shelling that had filled the air for quite some time now had finally gone silent, lending an eerie sense of foreboding to the air. For now, the tower was not being attacked. The building itself was solid stone, and their enemy had likely decided to wait to attack the tower until they could bring salvaged cannons from the wreckage of their campsite into the city to bombard the tower.

Hans was kneeling beside a blanket laid upon the ground, bandaging the arm of a wounded man who lay sprawled out on it. The little triage area had only three men, which was really just an unpleasant reminder of how many men hadn't survived to be counted among the wounded in the tower. The man hissed through his teeth as Hans dabbed at his arm with a cloth soaked in a weak wine.

"It will hurt less once it is clean," he explained sympathetically, wiping away the grimy smear until exposed red flesh stared back at him. It was a bayonet wound, one that had punctured his entire upper arm. It had slashed his chest, as well, but not punctured deep; the man's attacker had been aiming for the heart and accidentally gone through his arm instead. He began to wrap the arm with white linen.

"Cristo," the man murmured, a lone tear running down his cheek. "Per quanto tempo, signore mago?"

Hans shrugged. "Not long, I imagine," he said, shaking his head.

He stood up just as Kariena reached his side, just having administered to the last of the wounded. She slid one of her arms around Hans's and leaned into him. He glanced down frowned, noticing a gash along her forehead. It was shallow enough that it wasn't even bleeding anymore, and it had already been cleaned, but it still bothered him. There was a lot of blood on her clothes, most of it not hers.

"You always liked those guns," she said, glancing up at him.

He smiled crookedly. "Well, when this is over, I can go pick through the battlefield. I know where I dropped them, at least."

"We screwed this up," she said softly. They had walked back over to a small table near the wall, and they sat there. "We screwed this up badly. A lot of people died that didn't have to."

Hans nodded. "I know. I was just thinking about that. I mean… I mean, once Elsa gets back, we'll have this won, but at a pretty substantial cost that we didn't have to commit."

Kariena raised an eyebrow. "You're very confident in her."

Hans was surprised. "Well of course I am. She's an unstoppable force, Kariena."

Kariena snorted. "Well, I don't know about that."

Hans raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever seen her get beaten in a fight?"  
Kariena thought about it for a moment. "I suppose not, no. But… she's not a god, Hans. One day, she's going to come up against something that she won't be able to overcome. I guess I don't believe that today's that day, but eventually it will happen."

Hans frowned. "That sort of thinking assumes that we're going to lose, eventually."

Before Kariena could reply, a sound like a thunderclap carried through the still silence that had settled over Milan.

"There she is," Hans said, standing up and looking around. "You there! Hand me that sword."

The man, surprised, unbelted his saber and walked over to hand it to Hans. "Surely you aren't thinking about going out there –"

"You'd better not be," Kariena said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, I'm not leaving Elsa to get us out of here by herself," Hans said, attaching the scabbard to his belt and checking to make sure that it was secure.

Kariena sighed and rolled her eyes. "You fuckers have no sense of self-preservation," she said, her voice slipping into a distinctly American accent in her frustration. All the same, she went to retrieve her own knives.

"You sure you want to come with me?" Hans asked, catching her shoulder. "If the tower gets attacked while I'm gone, they'd be happy to have you here."

"No, I'm not sure I want to run into a sea of angry guys with guns who want to shoot me, but I'm also sure that I'm not letting you run off on some fool errand unprotected."

Hans grinned. "Alright, then. Let's get a move on."

He led the way up the stairs of the tower, and when he reached the second floor, he un-shuttered one of the windows. He climbed out onto the ledge and made the short lump to a nearby rooftop, landing a bit more roughly than he'd expected to. Kariena landed far more gracefully on the clay tiles beside him.

"I meant to land like that," he said, standing up and brushing himself off again. Kariena rolled her eyes at him.

Now they could hear a steady, constant stream of booms, like ceaseless thunder. Hans turned himself in that direction and started to run, leaping from roof to closely-packed roof and picking up speed as he went. Kariena matched him step for step, and before long they were at the square before the southern gate again.

They leapt onto a rooftop at the edge of the square that was already populated with two crouching men, firing from rifles into the center of the square. They didn't notice Hans and Kariena as they ran up from behind and skewered the men in unison. Hans kicked his corpse down into the street below and looked down to see Elsa in fluid motion amidst a sea of enemies below, smiting them in brilliant streaks of light and resounding thunder.

Hans gripped the edge of the roof with one hand and swung himself down into the square, landing in a crouch and standing to charge into the fray. Elsa noticed him once he was a few yards away, and she called out to him.

"We need to talk! All of us!"

Hans frowned as he ducked underneath a man's swing and then slashed at him. "Now probably isn't a good time!" He yelled back.

Elsa rolled her eyes and shot a bolt of ice over his shoulder, pinning two men into each other and sending them sliding several feet. Then she turned and plunged Rimeheart's tip into the cobblestones, sending a wave of ice through the rest of the soldiers in the square and freezing them solid. There was a burst of gunfire from nearby rooftops, but the bullets stopped in midair several feet from Hans and Elsa.

The snipers considered this for a moment, and then they turned and ran.

Elsa let them go, turning back to Hans.

"There's another immortal for us to worry about, now."

Hans sighed. "Why don't any of them ever want to be on our side?"

Elsa frowned. "Well, that's part of the problem with this one. Come on. Odette's a street over. We found a few wounded soldiers that had been left behind."


	22. Chapter Twenty

Author's Note:

We're back! Thanks for sticking with the story through my crazy schedule, dear reader! A lot has happened since the last upload, not least of which is... a trailer for Frozen 2! Do yourself a favor and watch it again, it really does look that good. I can't wait!

xxx

Chapter Twenty

 _The funny thing is, I know that I read that book from cover to cover – it was fascinating. But… but I can't remember anything that was in it. I can't even remember its name._

 _Hans_

* * *

Venice,

Veneto

February 24th, 1844

Novendon frowned as he stood at the prow of a sleek warship, staring into the smoking city of Venice. The assault had begun before dawn, and now as the sun turned the horizon to molten gold, the city was finally laying down to die. He was pleased, despite the hard lines etched into his face. After what felt like an interminable time spent dealing with the insufferable beings of the Sea of Stars, it was sublimely refreshing to be among mortals again. The invasion that had begun last year was now finally entering its second stage. The New World was conquered, as well as the far east. In that time, however, an unlikely resistance had formed, and it had grown powerful beyond expectation.

In the early days, Novendon had thought Elsa Siguror to be a stumbling child, desperately clinging to powers to expansive for her to wield properly. She didn't pose any serious threat to their campaign, but she _was_ a nuisance and a roadblock. First at the Worldgate, and then in the invasion of Arendelle, and again several times since then, she had proven Novendon wrong. He was impressed with her ability to forge a seemingly stable coalition out of the remainder of the world's leaders. Nominally, her sister appeared to be the one they called empress, but Novendon had also learned from Everdark that the sister was just an ordinary human, completely devoid of anything that made her special. The girl was a figurehead; Novendon was sure that it was Elsa who had managed to unite squabbling kings into something greater. Somehow, she had made peace from war.

But now, now the time had finally gone to tear down what Elsa had so painstakingly crafted. Everdark's forces had marched and sailed forwards from their stronghold in southern Italy, poising themselves to take Milan and Venice. To the far north, would re-enter through the gate by Arendelle's seas and occupy the abandoned city on their way to assault the rest of the Celtic states. And finally, treaties that Novendon himself had helped to craft with African warlords would set their tribes upon Morocco. Beset from so many angles, the empire would not be able to organize a coherent defense.

It was a good plan.

"Master wizard. The armir has arrived," came the voice of the ship's bosun from behind him.

Novendon's frowned, and he allowed himself a twinge of annoyance. What was Ardentum doing here? He was supposed to be in Milan, and by now they were supposed to have begun the siege of the city. It wasn't difficult to make sure the men were capable of pitching their damn tents. Nonetheless, he turned and inclined his head to the god-boy as he approached the prow.

"Good evening, Ardentum. This is a surprise." The boy had that unstable look about him that Novendon didn't trust.

"Dispense yourself of pleasantries," Ardentum said bitterly. "We were met with fierce resistance at Milan. The attack has foundered."

 _What?_ Novendon thought incredulously. Somehow the boy managed to bring misfortune with him wherever he went. It was almost as if he had a way of deliberately sabotaging their plans.

"How?" Novendon said, angrily. "You were to lay siege, not attack the city! Even still, you should have outnumbered them two to one!"

" _They_ were there," Ardentum said. "All of them."

He didn't need to specify who he was talking about.

"What?" Novendon asked. "How? Yesterday they were at Versailles. Even by train Elsa and her companions could not travel so fast."

"How should I know?" Ardentum replied, crossing his arms. He was not unlike a petulant child sometimes. "They found a way to get there. Maybe they've found a way to deceive your sources about their locations."

Novendon bristled, but he forced himself to bite back a retort. Perhaps Ardentum was right. Novendon cultivated a ring of spies, and until now he was quite convinced of their efficacy. Clearly, however, they had managed to get something wrong. That, or they had grossly underestimated the capabilities of their enemies.

"This… this is bad news," Novendon said. "We must speak to the Master about it immediately."

He swept past Ardentum and began to walk back to the port that would let belowdecks. The Dark Chamber was waiting for him down there. Ardentum backpedaled and caught his arm.

"Wait. Wait until we've finished taking Venice. We must have good news to go with the bad."

Novendon shook Ardentum's arm off of his own and scoffed. "I do not fear the Master the same way you do, boy."

But once again, he wondered if Ardentum was right. Everdark could be downright irrational when it was angered, and irrationality would serve no one. So he frowned, and eventually turned back to the swarthy sailor standing at attention a few feet away from them.

"Give the order to the captain directly from me: we will redouble our assault. I want the city in hand within the hour. Waste no time taking prisoners. Get it done."

xxx

A beleaguered Odette slumped into a chair at a little wooden table across from the portal that led back to Paris. It was about seven feet tall, and as wide as a man's arm span, set into the wall and softly glowing with an internal, swirling energy. She rubbed at her eyes and turned to look at the portal just as it began to glow the brilliant white that marked its use.

A silhouette seemed to be visible in the portal for a moment, and then Empress Anna Siguror stepped through it, followed by a few men that Odette recognized to be military, from their bearing. Anna nodded once to them, and they immediately swept past her into the rest of the building to take control and begin dispensing orders.

"Hi, Odette," Anna said, slipping into the seat across from her sister's wife and clasping one of her hands. Her voice was kind, as always. "You look pretty exhausted."

It was now early in the morning on the 25th of February, and Odette had just spent the better part of eight hours using her powers nonstop, saving as many of the injured Milanese men as she could. She'd managed to bring over twenty men back from the brink, but it was still a paltry and insignificant number relative to the devastating losses that they had taken. Now the gravity of the last day had begun to set in on her, all the impossible decisions about who she could save and who was already too far gone, had begun to weigh on her soul. Coupled with a lack of sleep, a piercing hunger that had eventually faded to a dull throb an hour ago, and a residual fear from the brush with death that she'd had earlier, Odette was, indeed, exhausted.

"How's Michael?" She asked.

Anna smiled, and rubbed the back of Odette's hand with her thumb. "He's well. I left right after I managed to get him to go to sleep. He's pretty restless, though, so I imagine he's giving one of the midwives trouble right about now."

Odette met Anna's gaze, and she noticed something in the empress's eyes. They were so like Elsa's, in a way.

"It bothers you, doesn't it? Letting nurses care for him. You wish you had enough time to do it all yourself."

Anna's smile faded slightly and became more wistful. "Yes," she replied. "Yes, it does. I keep thinking that there's one magic thing that I can do to make him grow up to be a little replica of his father. But of course, that's ridiculous, there's no such thing. And in any case, I don't even _want_ him to be a replacement for Kristoff. At least, I shouldn't want him to be."

Odette nodded. She didn't have anything insightful to say to that, so instead she turned the conversation in another direction.

"Are the townspeople alright? How are they taking it?"

In a world without Odette, the Milanese townspeople would have had to evacuate to the north, fleeing their homes and traversing the countryside. It would have been dangerous, and slow, and riddled with logistical nightmares. Of course, in reality, they just fled en masse through the portal that led back to Paris. It had taken less than an hour to get them all through, and now they were probably being relocated to one of the many refugee holdings throughout the city of lights.

"I'm told that they're well," Anna said, fiddling with a button on one of her cuffs. "Of course, nothing really fixes the hole that gets left behind when your home is destroyed, but they'll all have a place to sleep and a hot meal tonight."

They lapsed into silence for a minute or so, listening to the indistinguishable chatter that filtered through the walls as dozens of people went about their business to make sure that the city was secure.

"How's Elsa?" Anna eventually asked. "I would have expected her to be with you, but…"

"Elsa's fine," Odette said. "She's out patrolling the streets with some of the soldiers, looking for anybody that might be left out there. She worked herself pretty hard today, too, but I don't even know if she got a scratch. These kinds of bad guys… they really aren't a threat to her."

Anna stood up and smoothed her dress, smiling once more at Odette. "I hate to think about the ones that are."

xxx

Thirty minutes later, Hans, Kariena, Elsa, Odette, and Anna were all gathered around a small table in the kitchen of the burgomaster's house. They'd found his wine cellar, and Anna had used her 'imperial privilege' to requisition a few in the name of the crown.

"He told me that my only chance to defeat Everdark was to abandon the world and join him in the Sea of Stars. He seemed to think that there we'd get an opportunity to strike at Everdark when it's weakest."

Elsa frowned, slowly rotating the base of her glass on the table, watching the gentle eddy of the liquid go round and round.

"He seemed very sincere. He really, honestly believed what he was saying to me."

"Some people are good at faking sincerity," Hans said. "He could be lying."

Anna frowned. "Yes, Hans did a pretty good job of convincing me that he was interested in marrying me the night of your coronation."

Hans adjusted his collar.

"That would be the simplest solution," Elsa acceded. "But I have a hard time accepting it. If he had really been here to try to cause us harm, then he would have killed Odette, but he didn't. He didn't even hurt her."

"Why didn't he try to get all of us to come with him?" Kariena asked. "I mean, I could see a real argument that all of us together could pose a threat to Everdark if we got the right chance."

Odette glanced sideways and met Elsa's eyes. They hadn't discussed whether she should mention what Ardentum had said about Hans. His claim that Hans would eventually betray them had been his most chilling statement of all, exacerbated by the fact that everything else he'd said had sounded like the truth. Elsa frowned.

"He believed very strongly in his own visions. He didn't see any of you joining him in the visions, so he was convinced that he only needed to win me over."

Hans met Elsa's eyes, and she wavered, glancing down momentarily. She always felt like she couldn't hide what she was thinking from him. If he could tell that she wasn't saying everything, he didn't make a point out of it.

"Stop me if I sound crazy, but isn't there some merit to what he's saying?" Kariena asked.

Everyone turned to look at her, and she shrugged. "I mean, _if_ we could even get back into the Sea of Stars in the first place, which is a big if – but if we could, wouldn't it be helpful to have one of us over there? Especially with Odette's powers, it's not like they'd ever be too far away."

"I'm not so sure that I could make a portal that would let into the Sea of Stars," Odette said. "If that was just a power that wizards had, then why would they bother having the Worldgate that Elsa told us about? Wouldn't they just have an ordinary portal in each of the cities up there?"

Elsa frowned. Ardentum had told her that none of her friends would have been willing to join him, even if he posed the question to all of them. But here Kariena was speaking about one or more of them heading off to the Sea of Stars as if it were a good idea. Had Ardentum been lying? Was his vision of the future more clouded than he let on? Or, perhaps, had telling the others about her encounter with Ardentum somehow shaped the responses that they gave?

 _Riddles within riddles._

Before anyone could reply to Odette, the door swung open hurriedly, and a young man wearing riding garb and a patch of the empire on his right shoulder stepped into the room. He was one of the empire's official messengers, hopping Odette's portals and riding hard to deliver news to the far reaches of their territory. His face was ashen, and his uniform was dark from a wound at his side. He pulled a red hand away from it and promptly collapsed to the floor.

Odette reacted faster than the others, rushing over to him and rolling him onto his back.

"I need someone to help me get his shirt off," she said, voice exhausted but cool and precise.

Elsa sprung up and summoned Rimeheart in the form of a small, thin knife. She knelt down beside Odette and split the front of the man's shirt open, wincing as she peeled the blood-dried fabric away from a grisly bullet wound. Hans had sprung up to leave, and now he came back in with a small bowl of water and a cloth. He set them down beside Odette, who wet the cloth and began to clean the wound's exterior. The man was really just a boy, probably no more than eighteen. His eyes fluttered, and he groaned.

"No," he moaned softly in Italian. "Not enough time. Not enough…"

"Give him something to bite on," Odette murmured.

Elsa flicked her wrist and a small bar of ice appeared in her hand. She motioned for the boy to open his mouth, and then stuck it in between his teeth for him to bite down on.

Odette stuck her forefinger and thumb into his bullet hole, and he cried out in pain. Blood oozed up around her fingers, and then she retrieved them a moment later and dropped a bit of crushed metal into the bowl. Blood began to unspool from it into the water like inky threads. The boy whimpered, tears in his eyes.

"Shh…" Odette whispered soothingly, placing one hand over the bleeding wound and getting ready to mend him. "You're going to be just fine. Just a few seconds, and your pain will be gone."

Odette's hands began to glow softly, and her pupils disappeared into liquid gold irises. Elsa watched her wife as her face became serene. With her other hand, she reached into the middle space between them and above the boy, and she seemed to touch something. His lifeline, Elsa knew, though she could not see it. Odette described them as threads of light that bound souls to the world and to each other. Her power was not so much the ability to heal, like Rapunzel, as it was the ability to mend these bonds.

If his wound was left untreated, this man would die, so his lifeline was correspondingly weak. Odette could make it strong again. A golden light erupted from the boy's side, and he gasped, biting down again on the ice. It was very short, perhaps only a few seconds, before Odette's eyes became brown again and her pupils returned. The room's natural light seemed dull and dim again, and the boy spat out the ice, panting. He sat up and looked down at his side with supernatural awe, probing at the pink, unbroken skin.

He gazed up at them, and Elsa was reminded of how truly fantastic they were to most people.

"You saved me," he said, voice small.

Odette sat back on the floor, letting out an exhausted sigh and raking a hand through her hair.

"Don't mention it," she said.

The messenger continued to stare at Odette for several seconds before he seemed to come back to his senses. He looked around the room and immediately sprang to attention when he saw Anna, saluting her.

"Urgent message for the empress!" The messenger said in accented English. "I've been traveling nonstop from Venice to warn her majesty that the forces of the enemy have attacked the city. They did so with many ships outfitted for war, and their bombardment devastated the city. I was sent to petition for aid just as they began to enter the city on foot. I fear that even with the use of your magic portals, I will be too slow. They did not seem interested in taking prisoners."

Elsa shot a glance at Anna, who remained admirably composed. She listened to him carefully, and then nodded once.

"Very well. We must act immediately." She stood up and started to walk towards the door. "Elsa, are you up for a long night?"

Elsa stood and fell into step beside her sister. "I always am."

Hans hurried to catch up with them. "I'll go, too."

Kariena glanced at Odette, who didn't look like she was ready to move any time soon. "You guys think you're good? Maybe I should stay here with Odette and hold the fort."

Elsa felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving Odette behind.

"That's a good idea," Hans said. "For all we know this Ardentum is still out there somewhere."

"If you see him…" Hans said, looking at Elsa for confirmation. Elsa thought for a moment, and then nodded.

"If I see him, I'll consider him dangerous," Kariena said. She'd kill him if required.

"I'll see what troops I can muster up," Anna was saying to them as they left the room, the messenger in tow. "But that might take hours. You'll have to manage on your own until then."

Hans ducked into the room that had become an impromptu armory for the Milanese soldiers and stepped back out a moment later with his sword belt and a pistol holster. He handed the pistols to Elsa to hold while he buckled on his swords.

"There's not a chance in hell those guns shoot as straight as mine," he said. He looked past them and called back to Kariena, "Make sure they find my guns! I don't want some grubby scavenger playing finders keepers with them."

"Fuck yourself," she called back.

Hans grinned.

He put on the guns next, and then nodded. They continued on, reaching the room with the portal a minute later.

"You think you'll be fine?" Anna asked, eyes flickering back and forth as they searched Elsa's. Her brow was knit with concern. "They might have wizards, too."

Elsa shrugged. "They'll need 'em."

She turned to Hans. "Let's go kick some ass."


	23. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

 _For that matter, I don't know how much of anything that happened in the Watcher's realm was actually real. Time seemed to move more slowly there, as if I spent decades at that farm rather than just a few months._

 _Hans_

* * *

Venice,

Veneto

February 25th, 1844

The first thing that Hans could sense after he stepped through the portal was the acrid stench of smoke. Like many of Odette's wargates, this one was in the capital building of the city, set in a small, stuffy office used by some lower-level executive, likely chosen because it was out of the way. Hans walked across the room to the small window and opened it outwards onto a burning city. The channel was thick with an admixture of blood and oil and was itself ablaze in several places. While he watched, a building across the channel began to collapse inwards onto itself, great blocks of stone tumbling into manmade river.

"Step aside," Elsa said, widening her stance behind him.

Hans backed away from the window, and she threw both of her hands outwards. There was a ripple of force in the air, and frost momentarily coalesced around the window before the entire wall exploded outwards. Elsa immediately ran to the edge and leapt into the open space, a stairway of ice materializing beneath her feet as she ran up it to a rooftop on the other side of the canal. Hans drew his swords and ran after her.

When he set foot onto the medieval building beside Elsa, he saw that her eyes were blazing white, leaking trails of energy into the air. Her skin was also emitting a soft luminescence.

"You're drawing heavily upon magic," he said, turning to follow her gaze into the city. So much smoke. How could they possibly find a place to start? The enemy was everywhere. "Marina Blackheart always told me to be careful how quickly I used magic. She said the body can get acclimated to that much energy coursing through its veins all the time. It can make you dependent."

Elsa's gaze flickered to the side, towards Hans.

"I think this is a discussion for another time, Hans," she said simply, and then pointed. "There."

She turned and began to run, a track of ice appearing before her feet and speeding her up until she was hurtling along. The track arced upwards then abruptly stopped, and Elsa sailed freely through the air, passing through great plume of smoke and disappearing from Hans's sight. A few heartbeats later, an explosion of white energy swept dispelled the smoke and swept through the air till it passed over him, raising chilly goosebumps on his arms. Hans sighed.

"You know just as well as I do that I can't follow you when you do that," he muttered to himself as he started to run after her.

xxx

"Very well," Everdark's voice thrummed in the chamber. "It is time that I returned from the celestial sea to your world of blood and sinew. I will deal with this matter at Milan myself."

Ardentum felt his dread continue to build, as it had been continuously for the past day. His vision was clouded. Normally, the fractal futures that were laid out so clearly before him, seemed muddled and indistinct. Something was happening to interfere with his foresight. Something was causing him to lose control, and there was nothing he hated more than a lack of control. Ardentum knew well that Elsa and the other Archmages were at Milan, and he knew that if the master were to engage them, they would be destroyed. His only hope at freedom, snuffed out like a weak flame.

"Master," he said, forcing his voice to sound even and fearless, even as he stared at the floor of the Dark Chamber. He felt weak that Novendon stood with eyes raised while Ardentum knelt, but he could not bring himself to gaze into the darkness.

"What is it, Ardentum?" Everdark said, voice sounding rather beneficent. Ardentum was rarely the object of the master's wrath, and he actively worked to ensure that it remained that way.

"I…" how could he convince the master not to go to Milan without betraying himself? Even now, he wondered if he was adequately protecting his mind from the Mmaster's insidious control. Were his thoughts already laid bare to the foul being? "I have foreseen ill omen in our future if you go to Milan, master."

He felt Novendon turn slightly, to gaze down at him. He could see through the lie. Ardentum felt his mouth go dry.

"Master –" Novendon began, but Everdark cut him off.

"Tell me more."

"I see a braid of fire," Ardentum said, drawing upon his magic and stepping into the uncertain tomorrows. "And a mantle of ash, resting upon your shoulders, master."

The city burned around the dark god Everdark. It strode on powerful legs through a sea of the dead, corpses lining the streets around it, drained of their souls by Everdark's twisted magic. Ardentum saw the Protector's sister, the empress, staring into the sky with unblinking eyes. He reached out to touch her, but his hand wavered in the air, his fingers shaking. He knew that this was not real. Not yet.

"There is great destruction," Ardentum said. "And you encounter brave resistance."

Knives gleamed in the air as the little witch that often traveled with Hans stepped through the aether to attack Everdark from behind. Their weapons flashed as they fought for several moments, and then she disappeared again. Everdark twisted and one of its arms became like a claw, and when the girl reappeared, she was skewered through, blood splattering backwards onto the ground. The god let her slide to the ground, where she writhed in pain, bleeding out and whimpering.

"You…" Ardentum's brow furrowed as he realized that he did not see the Protector or the Avenger. Where were there bodies? Where was the proof of their noble sacrifice? His breath began to come more quickly. "You do not find what you are looking for."

In the vision, Everdark's gaze swept the city, and with it, Ardentum's mind's eye roved through its narrow, twisting streets, past buildings new and old, and it did not find Elsa Siguror. Everdark began to scream, a twisted, angered roar that chilled Ardentum's blood. He felt a wrenching in his soul as the vision came to an abrupt end and once again, he was on his hands and knees in the Dark Chamber, dripping sweat onto the wooden planks beneath him. He felt feverish, and his limbs shook slightly.

"Where, then?" Everdark said, softly. "You have seen it."

Ardentum thought to lie, but how could he? If the Protector was not at Milan, then there was only one other place that she could be. Novendon would learn of her presence in moments anyway, and Ardentum's deceit would be laid bare to Everdark's merciless gaze. He moaned softly.

"They are already here," he said.

"Then our worst fears are confirmed, master," Novendon said, turning back to the darkness. "Somehow, they have been creating wargates. This helps to answer the question of how they have been able to unify such a large swath of land so quickly."

"It explains much," Everdark said. "Very well, then. The time has come to confront the Protector directly. Be prepared for my arrival."

 _No,_ Ardentum thought hopelessly. He could feel the vise closing on him.

"Yes, master," Novendon said, inclining his head slightly.

Ardentum's skin felt hot as the cold and the darkness swept out of the chamber.

xxx

Hans moved lightly on his feet, dancing backwards while his arms whirled, crossing swords with two men at once as they advanced on him. Hans turned his head sideways and noticed a fallen pillar in his peripheral vision. He continued to backpedal until one of his calves touched the stone, and then he feigned losing his balance. Both of the men lunged forwards, and Hans fell backwards at the same time, becoming insubstantial and phasing through the pillar. He rolled sideways when he hit the ground and came up alongside the men, running his sword through the nearest man's ankle.

While he toppled, Hans advanced on the remaining man, now on the back foot. Hans's swords whirled, and the man struggled to keep them at bay with only one of his own. Fear began to show in the man's eyes. Hans scored a blow against his left arm, drawing blood and limping it. The man fully began to panic, and his footwork became sloppy. After a few more steps, he put a foot into a pool of blood, and he slipped. Hans flicked his wrist, and his saber tore through the man's neck, sending his head tumbling through the air.

Elsa skated through the canal past Hans on a slick of ice, throwing skewers of ice into the crowd of swarm of soldiers crowding the sidewalks. The canals came to a four-way junction here, and she came to a stop in the middle and threw her hand outwards, a wall of ice springing to life in the air before the advancing soldiers. Bullets snapped ineffectually against it, and then the man began to hammer the butts of their rifles into it. Hans ran to intercept a pair of men rushing at Elsa from his side of the street, bayonets drawn.

One turned and shoved the skewer at him, and he phased through it, stepping to the side once he got near the man and sticking out a leg to trip him. The man hit the ground, and Hans ran a sword through his back, pinning him to the ground. The other man let out a battle cry as he lunged at Elsa, but she dismissively flicked her hand, and he froze solid where he stood, encased in ice a few feet from her, his face locked in an unmoving snarl.

"You know, I've always thought," Hans said, trying to catch his breath as he watched the horde of angry soldiers pound against the wall of ice that separated them from Elsa and Hans, "that our powers weren't fairly distributed. You know? Like, I have to actually work for these."

Elsa glanced over at him.

"Would you like me to go easier on you?"

Hans laughed and rolled his shoulders. "All I'm saying is, I end up exercising for three hours a day, doing target practice for another hour, and all I ever have to show for it is second place."

Elsa shrugged. "Hey, second place is pretty good."

She held out both of her hands and furrowed her brow. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the wall of ice shoved outwards rapidly, catching the soldiers against it and running them backwards into the buildings that lined the square, crushing them into the stone. She then let the wall crumble away into thick panes of ice that shuddered to into the water, taking piles of corpses with them. A few of the men continued to thrash in the water.

"Anyway, I think that we've got this block about cleaned up," Elsa said. "Let's start heading east. I still hope that we'll find some allied soldiers holding out somewhere, but the odds are going down."

It had been the better part of an hour since they had entered the city, and they still had not found any last holdouts of allied soldiers. It was disheartening; the enemy had been efficient, to say the least. They also hadn't encountered any wizards, for that matter, which Hans found somewhat surprising. There had only been one at Milan, and so if there weren't any here, it gave rise to a natural question: where were they?

There was a moment of silence as the last of the enemy soldiers fell quiet, and in that silence they both heard the sound of a child crying from somewhere in the distance. Hans glanced at Elsa, and they both turned to run.

They hurtled through the streets, Hans having quite forgotten his earlier exertion in the excitement of rushing to save this child. The sound grew louder as they approached, and at one point they had to cross the canal. Elsa laid a track of ice across the water, and Hans ran across it behind her, nearly slipping halfway across.

 _I need to get boots made for walking on ice,_ he thought idly as he caught his balance, vaulted onto the stone on the other side, and kept running.

Moments later, they rounded a corner to come onto a cobblestone square before a bank. A fountain stood in the center of the space, which was about forty feet to a side. So much land space devoted to something that wasn't a building was impressive, but Hans didn't have the chance to consider it. Standing beside the fountain were two men who wore the robes of wizards, one old, and one young. In the grasp of the older man was a young boy, screaming frantically.

"Elsa Siguror," the older man said, his voice commanding and powerful. "Imagine my surprise when I learned that you had miraculously appeared in Venice, merely a day after my intelligence network confirmed your presence at Versailles."

"Let him go, Novendon!" Elsa yelled back, holding out her hand. There was a flurry of snowflakes in the air, and Rimeheart appeared in it. "This is between us!"

"As if this feat alone weren't enough, of course, my dear friend Ardentum managed to confirm that you were _also_ in Milan, just hours ago." Novendon raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "You've been holding out on us, Protector."

"Let him go!" Elsa repeated, pointing her blade at Novendon.

Hans turned his gaze to the boy-wizard Ardentum. He appeared younger than any of them, younger probably than even Anna, but Hans knew that age among these beings could be deceptive. They had some amount of power to choose their form, so why did Ardentum choose to present as a teenage boy?

 _He wants to be underestimated._

According to Elsa, Ardentum claimed that he had he had the power to glimpse into the future, but Hans wondered if that was really what he could do. Or if it was the _only_ thing that he could do. Hans slowly moved his hands until they rested upon the grips of his pistols.

"As much as I would like to, Protector, I can't," Novendon was saying. "You see, unlike you and your friends, we have not managed to create wargates without a certain… prerequisite. This boy was rooted out from this burned shell of a village by my men. He apparently demonstrated some peculiar capabilities for defending his family, despite his age and size."

The boy whimpered and tugged ineffectually against Novendon's grip.

"If you touch him, I will kill you," Elsa said.

 _The boy's going to die, Elsa,_ Hans thought grimly. He was beginning to get that surreal, sharp feeling that he always did before each time he fought for his life. The battle earlier had just been a warmup for the showdown that was about to begin.

"Seeing as you're likely wont to do that regardless of what I do to the boy, I don't consider that a particularly credible threat, Protector," Novendon said, smirking.

He reminded Hans of Namar Sadden. Self-assured, and silver-tongued. Too bad Kristoff wasn't here to put a shotgun blast through Novendon's head.

Elsa abruptly turned her gaze to Ardentum. "You're a coward, Ardentum. You sicken me more than you could possibly realize."

Novendon frowned, appearing surprised. He glanced to the side at Ardentum, whose face was impassive, though ashen. Novendon seemed to roll this over in his head for a moment before he settled on ignoring it for now.

"Much as I would like to continue this conversation, Elsa, unfortunately I must inform you that the time has come for us to begin making attempts on each other's lives. Last time, I had fifty wizards with me to try to kill you, and you managed to slip through my grasp. I do not intend on making that mistake again."

He drew a tensing blade from within his cloak, and Elsa clenched her fist. Hans saw ice crystallize in the air around Novendon – she'd been trying to freeze him solid, like the soldier from earlier, but this time the ice didn't seem to be able to trap him. Hans got his guns from their holsters and fired twice at Novendon, but the knife was already flashing against the boy's neck, and blood spilled into the fountain.

Novendon was struck twice by Hans's bullets, and he tumbled backwards, letting go of the boy and slumping to the ground. Blood ran from a hole in his collarbone and another at his side. Ardentum stepped back from this, horrified.

Elsa cried out with anguish and sprinted across the interim space to the fountain, sliding to a stop beside the boy. Hans followed behind her and grimaced when he saw that the boy's eyes already stared unblinkingly upwards. His blood gushed heavily like a dark stain into the water of the fountain.

From the ground near them, Novendon coughed, and then began to speak weakly. "You told me that he wouldn't have guns," he said, his eyes struggling to keep focus on the young wizard. Hans turned and saw tears running down Ardentum's face. "You… you lied to me. You killed me."

He coughed again, blood dribbling from his mouth onto his chest. "May the master bring judgment to you as well."

And his eyes closed.

"What are you summoning, Ardentum?" Elsa screamed at him, voice thick with hatred. She whirled and threw Rimeheart at him. It twisted in the air and its pommel rammed into his chest, throwing the Armir to the ground. Elsa extended her hand and Rimeheart returned to it, and she stalked over to place the point of her blade at his neck. "Tell me!"

His eyes were wild with terror. "We have to run," he said. "We have to get out of here. It's coming, it's –"

There was a horrible screech, and Hans turned with alarm to see a torrent of souls swirling out of the fountain. Light seemed to seep towards the thrashing red forms, and the air grew thick in his throat. He raised his hands to his ears and stepped backwards from the fountain, but the shrieking did not lessen in intensity – it was in his head, somehow.

The souls began to coalesce into a form that was hauntingly familiar from his nightmares. Only this time, this was reality.

"It has been too long, Protector," Everdark said as it stepped free from the shadow. "And my dear Hans. It's well overdue that we finally meet in person."

Elsa turned and raised her sword, a swirl of icy wards materializing from the air around her. Hans raised his pistols to train them on Everdark's form, but he knew that they would have no effect on the creature. They weren't ready. This wasn't supposed to happen, not yet.

Ever since Hades had recalled Hans to life, he'd always felt like he was, at least in some small part, in control of his fate. He was the master of his destiny, no matter how bad things got, he always had some hope to be able to overcome the challenges that he faced.

Now these illusions were stripped bare, laid aside like so much refuse. They'd merely been pawns in a game far larger than they were, and the time had come for the gamemaster to dispose of them. He shot a sideways glance at Elsa and saw a fiery resolve in her eyes.

"I may not have spoken all the Words of the Protector, but I will still fight you until my dying breath," she said fiercely.

Hans felt a stirring of hope in his chest, and he hardened his resolve. If Elsa were to die fighting, then so would he.

"I never tire of mortal spirit," Everdark said, widening its stance. "I suspect that I will rather enjoy taking yours."


	24. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

 _For some reason, I feel as if the answer to defeating Everdark may have lay within its passages._

 _Hans_

* * *

A natural cave,

in Present-Day Austria

c. 3610 BC

The wizard Ashanerat was lost in thought. She was meditating deeply, seeing into the space within worlds, and within herself. It grew easier with the passage of time, to lose herself in this great beyond. The constant gurgle of the underground river faded away in her ears and she felt her breathing slow and become more serene. Truth presented itself to her.

Forty years to the day had passed since Circu the Learner gave his life to complete the entrapment ritual that would seal Everdark away. Still there was grief in her heart for the man who should not have been required to make such a sacrifice, but with time had come a sort of peaceful understanding. It was not happiness, and she had not forgiven herself. But self-pity, or self-hatred, was the last reserve of the truly weak. They had all been fallible, and though her mistakes had been graver than many others, she had spent nearly half a century atoning for them. Of course, it was a spiritual atonement, one performed by penitence, rather than deeds. Ashanerat was not a moral philosopher, but she hoped that the Immortals would be willing to forgive her regardless.

Today would be a day to remember her fellow wizards. She wondered what had become of them. Days like these she allowed herself to entertain a vision of what they might be doing, so long after the world was preserved and Ashanerat entered exile. Perhaps Rhennalus had finally brought himself to travel the world, recording tales of great heroes and collecting them into the book that he had always dreamed of writing. Perhaps Sakina had finally learned the mathematical secrets that had so tantalized her.

Ashanerat frowned. This idle speculation was not mediation. It was not enlightening, but though she tried to move her mind to other things, she found that it would not retreat. On some level, she recognized that she was growing old, although that still seemed far away to her. It did not make sense to her that she had spent over half her life in this cave, for although at first the days and weeks had felt immobile to her, now time seemed malleable. What happened ten years ago could have been yesterday, and tomorrow was already past.

How had the world fared in the absence of the Protector for these intervening decades? Surely, it had persevered. One of the other wizards would have come for her, if she had been truly needed. Perhaps all the world's misfortune was suspended now, along with Everdark, waiting for the right moment to come hurtling back when it could overwhelm the unwitting.

Rhennalus had estimated, the morning that Ashanerat had left, that the world would have thousands of years before the return of Everdark. The rest of the wizards had considered it a costly victory; they felt certain that in that amount of time the world would be more than ready. By then, there would be wizards of such great strength that Everdark would be merely a trifling inconvenience instead of a globe-spanning threat.

Ashanerat wasn't sure about that.

She knew that a time would come again when another would have to take up her mantle. Part of her time in solitude had been spent thinking about how best to impart the difficult lessons that she had learned on to her successor. Ashanerat opened her eyes. She sat with her legs crossed meditatively in front of herself in the middle of a smallish, circular chamber. The walls were covered in truly ancient cuneiform left by a tribe of primitive humans that had called this cave home before her. The center of the room was dominated by a stone obelisk, about as high as a man, and a dark blue-verging-on-black.

It was slightly reflective, and unblemished save for the unevenness of its sides. Forty years ago when Ashanerat had come to this place, she had envisioned that it might one day bear the Words of the Protector, an epitaph of wisdom that could be passed down through the ages and serve humanity when it was needed again. Back then, it had seemed to her that it would be an easy task. Despite her failure to defeat Everdark, Ashanerat knew that she had been a competent protector, and she thought that perhaps she would be able find something that would serve as a larger representation of who the Protector was supposed to be.

However, these words of wisdom had been elusive to her, and forty years had passed while her chisel lay untouched beside the great stone. She had not even begun to shape it into something more regular, to bear her words. It was the same as when she had found it.

"Often I miss your quiet guidance, Rhennalus," Ashanerat said quietly. "You of all people would be able to put into words what I cannot."

She stood up and turned to leave the natural room, and as she did she caught sight of Lightbringer, which lay cast to the side of the room, ensconced in its scabbard. Idly, she walked over and reached out for the blade, taken aback when she saw the lines of age in her hand. She rarely saw her reflection down here, and in her mind's eye she had never ceased to be the young, powerful woman of her memory.

 _I am old and broken,_ she thought as she picked up the sword and ran her hands over the worked leather scabbard. The sword was heavier than she remembered it being, but of course it was; her muscled had atrophied as the rest of her body wasted away in this cave. But what the former Protector was interested in was the quatrain that had been scratched into the leather scabbard by her mentor long, long ago.

She had learned swordplay from an old monk who had seemed beyond time itself, who had insisted that she call him only 'master.' She had never learned his name, but he had been a disciplined mentor, demanding and yet kind. He had insisted that the mastery of martial combat be coupled with a mastery of one's inner self, and so at the same time she had learned to fight, he had taught her eastern poetry, Sumerian riddles, and many logic puzzles.

Her master had also insisted on the purity of Ashanerat's spirit, suggesting that the quatrain which she had learned served as words of power. Ashanerat had been a dutiful student, so of course she had heeded his direction to learn them by heart, but she had never thought of them as anything more than platitudes that could help to remind her how best to act and orient her thinking. Learning the words changed nothing fundamentally about her, but perhaps that had never been the point. Maybe, on some level, her spirit had changed when she had spoken the words.

She turned the scabbard over and looked at them. She frowned. Though she could clearly remember that the old monk had written them in Celestian, her mind seemed to be unable to process the arrangement of characters before her eyes. She unsheathed Lightbringer, gazed fondly upon the gleaming blade for a moment, and then set it aside. She carried the scabbard with herself back through the cave into the chamber that she lived in. There was a hole in the cave's ceiling here that let in natural light, and she held the leather up here and focused on the words.

This… this was different than any sensation she had ever felt before. When looking at writing in an unfamiliar language, she could still make sense of the phonemes and sound out individual words. But this seemed different, almost as if some sorcery was stealing her ability to make sense of the words entirely. They didn't seem to be able to stick in her mind.

What were the words again, anyway? She felt confident that she could recall them by memory; for many years she had repeated them to herself each sunrise. And yet now…

"I do not falter under watch of darkness. I will be strong, for those who –"

Her annoyance deepened, and she began again, faster.

"I do not falter under watch of darkness. I will be strong, for those who are weak. I… I will bring hope…"

How could it be so hard to remember the words? They were self-explanatory, and in some cases should have been rather easy to guess. But they were slippery, somehow, and she found that try as she might, she could not remember the last of the phrases. It was gone.

Did this mean that she was growing old and senile? She had never known senility that would manifest in such a way as this, but she also knew that wizards who had spent a lifetime utilizing magic intensively modified their bodies and minds in certain ways that few scholars understood. Perhaps she was falling victim to her past.

Or, perhaps, these words held true power. Ashanerat wondered suddenly if these were the Words of the Protector. What if it had been this quatrain that had given her power? What if she was unable to recall it now because the Immortals had seen that she had reneged on her duties, and they had stripped her of her former strength?

Met with a horrid suspicion, Ashanerat reached inside, searching for her magic in a way that had become as familiar as breathing when she was a far younger woman. She couldn't recall how long it had been since she had used her powers, but she was fairly confident that it had been after she had entered exile. It had to have been, hadn't it? One did not simply cut themselves off from something that was a fundamental part of themselves for so long. She was surprised by her own excitement as she looked inside herself for magic, as if her body fundamentally craved something that had been long lost.

She found it and drew upon the mystic arcana once again. Her body began to glow softly, casting shadows around the edges of the cave chamber she was in. She held out her hand, and a winking mote of light left her arm and began to hover in the air before her. She sighed audibly in relief. At least there was something that time had not stripped of her. She waved a hand in a familiar way, and the light fluttered off into the dark of the cave beyond her, illuminating the walls as it went.

Eager for more now, she dove deeper, relishing the thought of embracing the boundless energy that had possessed her as a young woman once again, but she was surprised to find that there wasn't anything else. Try as she might for several minutes, she couldn't manage to do anything other than create light.

 _What is wrong with me?_ Ashanerat thought, panicking. _Am I dying?_

She had not yet begun to contemplate death, although rationally she knew that she likely had less than a decade left to live. She should have felt at peace by her age, content with the mark that she had left on the world and the wisdom that she left behind to future generations. But she had wasted time, and she wasn't ready.

 _Calm down,_ she thought, forcing herself to sit down and breathe deeply, collecting herself. _Think. Think about why all you have left is light._

It didn't take long to remember.

Before Ashanerat had been Protector, she had been a Luminary, a wizard who could do exactly what she had been doing moments before. They could create light. It was a markedly useful skill, allowing communities with a Luminary to light their homes and public places long after the sun set. But that had been the _only_ thing that she could do. She hadn't been stronger, and faster, nor immune to the ravage of disease. She hadn't yet been able to leap great distances in a single bound and weave her light into indestructible armor. Those skills, she realized, had come only after she'd adopted the mantle of Protector.

"So that's it, then," she said aloud, defeat washing over her. "They really did take it away."

A tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the leather scabbard still in her hands. She glanced down at it. Perhaps the words did have strength, after all.

xxx

Elsa Siguror stood ten feet from the being that was threatening to bring an end to everything she loved, and she realized that she had been thrust into the moment that her entire life had been building towards ever since she had set foot in that Austrian monastery a year and a half ago. And she was not ready. These were not the terms that she'd envisioned fighting Everdark on, and Odette was not by her side. For some reason, that seemed to matter to her more now than she'd expected it to.

However, she was not afraid.

She did not fear for herself, but she did have a sense of remorse that she was going to fail. She thought that she could have been the light that even Ashanerat had failed to be. Elsa had even felt, in some moments, a sense of foolish pride that she might be the one to smite this darkness and cast it into oblivion. But she was not going to be that person, and the world would come to an end on the back of her failure. She wasn't even the full Protector – she'd never sworn the final oath.

"If I am to die, it will be in the embrace of all that is good," Elsa said, her voice booming in the square with a resounding confidence that surprised herself. "And there _will_ be those who live on. Your victory will not be assured with my defeat, but you will face the redoubled wrath of everyone left. We will never bow to you, Everdark, and that is why you will never truly win. With my death will come the sparks of something new."

She felt a stirring in her heart, and goosebumps on her skin. There was something sublime just beyond her reach, something that she hadn't felt since the night when she'd frozen the tsunami roaring towards Arendelle. A mighty arcana, something that came from without, rather than within. It was not hers, but in this moment, she realized that it was calling out to her. Asking to be taken in. It was Magic, and it was strength. Immortal power, and the forgotten souls who had wielded it since time immemorial.

Elsa realized that she knew the last couplet, the final verse of the Words of the Protector. It was in her heart as if it had always been there, waiting until the moment when it was called upon to wake up.

"I am the end, and the new beginning."

She could see beyond mortal flesh in that moment, and she saw fear in the Dark God's heart. Elsa reached into the space between the worlds and welcomed the power like an old friend. The power of the Lost Immortals flooded into her, and from her breath ice crystals formed in the air. She felt a profound sense of completion. She had spoken all the Words of the Protector, and with it she had finally fully embraced the destiny that had been marked upon her fate ever since the Consulate of Celestus had bound Everdark to return.

If moments before she hadn't been ready, how she was certain that this was the time.

She felt herself moving, running across the square towards Everdark with Rimeheart raised. She heard a battle cry escape her lips, and she saw Everdark move its scythe to intercept her blow. Where their blades met, there was a peal of thunder, and a shockwave swept through the square. Hans was thrown to his knees, and the fountain shattered and began to leak water onto the stone.

She did not step backwards as she struck at the God of Darkness again and again, Rimeheart flashing in the air before her with blinding speed. Everdark's stepped backwards, and began to fight with one hand, using its other to conjure rippling black shadows to surge up and lash out at Elsa. Her mind seemed to be able to operate on many dimensions at once, and her focus was not swayed as pulses of ice shards swept up into the air around her to tear apart the blackness.

Everdark tried to enter her mind, to dominate her as it had in New York City, and before in Corona, but this time Elsa was possessed with a brilliant clarity, a single sense of purpose like she had never known before, and the Dark God could find no purchase. She let out a stronger pulse of magic, and Everdark was swept backwards several feet across the square. Elsa widened her stance and threw both of her hands outwards, a surging storm of icicles hurtling past her towards Everdark.

The god became an insubstantial, inky darkness, and it flowed several feet from her attack before re-corporealizing into Everdark. It sent a black bolt towards Hans, but Elsa flicked her wrist and it was met with a ward of swirling icy shields. Everdark laughed suddenly, voice thick with frustration.

"You are stronger than she ever was," Everdark said, shifting through shadows to step out of the way of a ceaseless onslaught of attacks from Elsa. "I suspect now that she never learned the final oath. Perhaps she knew the words, but she did not grasp their meaning. You, on the other hand, seem like you were created for this singular purpose."

Elsa threw another wave of ice towards the God of Darkness. She had been paying attention to the way that it teleported as it shifted away from her, and this time she was ready, sending twin bolts of ice to the two places that she expected it to end up. The shadow danced into the path of one of her icicles and was sundered by it.

Everdark cried out in pain, a horrid sound almost beyond comprehension, and surged back into reality on one equine knee near the far end of the square. Black, ocherous blood seeped from a wound in its flank.

"You are dangerous in ways that Ashanerat never was."

xxx

Hans dashed across the square to where the boy-god still lay in a heap. Shrieking shadows twisted in the air around him, lashing out with vicious maws. He ran his swords into the darkness, gritting his teeth against the piercing screams, and went insubstantial to dive through a thicket of nightmares. As he came through the other side, a ward of ice sprung up between him and the darkness. He slid to a halt beside Ardentum and punched him in the face without hesitation.

The Armir cried out and rolled to his side, screaming, "This isn't the time to enact your petty revenge, fool! We need to run!"

"This is your fucking fault!" Hans roared at him, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to his feet. He pointed back to where Elsa stood amidst a sea of brilliantly white ice and pitch-black shadow. "We need to help her, goddammit!"

Ardentum shook his head, eyes wide. "There's no point. I have seen –"

"I don't give a fuck what you've seen!" Hans yelled. "If Elsa dies, all our lives are forfeit! Now help me!"

Ardentum's eyes flickered back and forth as he stared up at Hans, his breath coming in shallow gasps. After a few excruciating moments, he nodded.

"Very well. Prepare yourself, for this will be uncomfortable," Ardentum said, reaching up and placing his hands on the sides of Hans's head.

Before Hans could react, he felt new magic. It was different than anything else he had experienced before, and yet it was suddenly inside of him, waiting to be called upon. Tentatively, he touched it.

A crippling sensation of vertigo overtook him, and he abruptly let go of Ardentum, collapsing to one knee and groaning. He shut his eyes tight against a spinning in his head and placed his hands on the ground to steady himself. A second later, his mind seemed to get hold of itself again, and he opened his eyes. He saw Ardentum before him, but the Armir looked… fuzzy. His form was indistinct, almost as if his edges had been traced over several times with a violet shadow.

Suddenly, one of the purple shadows in the form of Ardentum's right arm extended and clasped Hans's shoulder. He frowned, and almost immediately afterwards, Ardentum's arm replicated the movement, reaching out and filling out the shadow to grasp Hans's shoulder in the same place.

"It is a vision of all possible futures," Ardentum said, voice apprehensive. "Your mind can only comprehend so many of these at once, so the shadows that you see are only probabilities. Likeliest outcomes. I fear that the Dark God can be… unpredictable, at times."

"Well, it sounds like that's the best we'll be able to do at the moment," Hans said, rolling his shoulders and turning back to the fight.

At first, he could not make sense of what he saw, so numerous were the violet traces surging across the battlefield between Elsa and the Dark God, but once again, a moment later things seemed to fall into place. He was surprised by the elegance of what he saw, spectral preimages of blades of ice and surges of shadow, followed a heartbeat later by a material replica. He drew up his blades and charged back into the fray.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

 _I have been free from the specter of my past for some time, now._

 _Hans_

* * *

Versailles,

France

February 25th, 1844

Anna Siguror closed her eyes as the man began to speak.

"They came out of nowhere. The ships emerged from the sea like specters, just appearing out of the mists like they did the night they sacked Arendelle. My boys and I weren't ready for them. We – we did the best that we could."

"Can you speak to the size of their forces, _capitaine_?" Naval Commander Gaspein asked in his raspy French accent.

"No, but they are many," he said. "They overwhelmed us within an instant. I've never seen such a merciless enemy before. They did not cease in their bombardment when we flew a white flag. I am, to my knowledge, the only one to escape with my life, as I managed to swim from the wreckage of my ship to the shore."

"Do you realize that you may have been followed to the portal, captain?" Another man asked.

"No, I am sure that I was not," the Arendane man said, though of course he could not be sure of such a thing. "I would not be so reckless."

"One does not ask such a question as a means to question your abilities, capitaine _,_ but rather because we are in the business of giving our enemies credit that they have proven themselves to be due. I fear that our position may have been compromised, your majesty. If you'd like my recommendation, we should escalate the threat level to an emergency immediately."

Anna opened her eyes, thinking to herself that this night was not shaping up to be so different from the one that Kristoff had died during.

 _Only this time, I'm a lot different than I used to be,_ she thought. _Funny, how much I've changed in just a few months. But this time, I'm ready._

"Let it be done," she said, standing up and nodding to General Uzana, who stood crisply near the doorway. "I want all of the portals to be guarded with at least ten men, as soon as we can manage. They need to be ready to close them off at a moment's notice, if the word comes."

"Close them off?" Uzana said, frowning. The young woman was a relatively new promotion to such a high rank, and a lucky find during their annexation of Morocco. She was very bright, and unafraid to ask difficult questions. "Your majesty, are troops are not spread optimally to defend a segmented empire. We have far too many men in South and Eastern Europe, and not enough in the north. We would be throwing millions into the den of wolves."

Anna stepped through the double doors that let into the war room, and her advisors and commanders fell into step behind her.

"Travers, I want you to go rouse the ceremonial guard. I suspect that we may have need of all of them by the time this night is out."

"Yes, your majesty," he said, saluting to her before he broke away down a side hallway.

"And Mons. Convene the rest of your urban planners and discuss a fit evacuation plan for Oslo. If the enemy has re-entered Arendelle, then Oslo is within a short striking distance. If you have the time, start to think about how you might do the same in some of our other major cities."

"Paris, your majesty?" Mons asked, face white with fear.

Anna wondered. "No," she said. "No, I doubt that the enemy would be bold enough to head straight for Paris, even if they did manage to get hold of Odette's wargates. Try to keep your wits about you, Mons. Many lives may depend on it."

The man nodded slowly, as if in a daze.

Anna continued to dispatch orders to the rest of the men around her, until only she and General Uzana remained. They crossed the threshold into the residential wing of the palace, and Uzana took up her point again in a hushed voice.

"The ceremonial guard? It sounds as if you do think that Paris may be attacked tonight, your majesty."

"Well of course it might," Anna said. "But it doesn't do us any good to have the civilians panicking. But I stand by what I said to Mons regardless. I still think that it's rather unlikely that we get any unwelcome visitors tonight. It would require a considerable force to challenge our seat of power, and I don't think that Everdark can muster the forces to do that quite yet. According to the wizards, it has been forced to devote considerable resources to maintaining control of the Sea of Stars."

Uzana sniffed. Anna knew that most of her nonmagical staff didn't really trust the wizards. They associated magic with the enemy, perhaps because many of them first learned of its existence around the same time as they first learned of the existential threat that bore down upon their existence. It was to their detriment, she thought.

"No," Anna continued, "the ceremonial guard will prove useful tonight because many of them were recruited from positions of leadership within their own armies. We'll split them up and dispatch them to the frontlines with orders to rally forces to defend the wargates."

"You know, your majesty, the portals have proven to be an invaluable asset to us during this conflict. They have allowed you to develop an infrastructure that could maintain control of an empire as large as any the world has ever known, and far more efficiently than anyone had ever dreamed possible. But the substantial risk that you accepted was that our enemy may eventually gain control of this system. I fear that tonight may be the night we pay the price for our overreliance on the magics of your friends."

Anna narrowed her eyes, but she realized that she was only upset because Uzana was right. Attacks on the border would be worrisome regardless, but they only posed a legitimate threat to the empire because of the wargates. Functionally, the Unified Empire had no borders, and any city important enough to house one or more of the portals was a staging ground to lay siege to the capital.

"Will you return to Morocco?" Anna asked Uzana.

The city had been attacked earlier in the evening by a confluence of tribal warlords. According to Uzana's intelligence, virtually every tribe that lived north of the Sahara was present, deceived into forming a pact with the dark forces. Among them was not the rank and file of Everdark's forces, although apparently the chiefs had been displaced from leadership by wizards loyal to Everdark, as had been the case in both Corona and Arendelle.

"Yes, your majesty," Uzana said, meeting eyes with Anna. "I have not given up hope that the tribesmen can be negotiated with. These men are not unthinking killers, and I am confident that in Morocco we have at least one person who can speak each of their many languages. If we can defeat their wizard commanders, then perhaps we will have won the fight with no more bloodshed."

Anna nodded. "Very well. I give you leave then, General. Keep an ear open for messengers with updates. Be ready to destroy the wargate if you must."

Uzana saluted to Anna and left for the portal. Anna turned and continued on, passing by Elsa's largely unused chambers on the way to her own. She opened the door as stealthily as she could and slipped inside. The sitting room was dimly lit by a single candle on the table, illuminating a letter that was slipped underneath the candlestick. Anna walked past it into her darkened bedroom and crossed over to the small cradle where her baby slept.

Michael was quiet, so quiet that Anna felt an instant of panic before she saw his little chest rising up and down. She glanced over her shoulder and saw one of the wet nurses, a young girl probably only a year or two older than Anna, also asleep in a plush sofa near the doorway. Anna felt an insatiable urge to rouse the nurse and send her home for the night before collapsing into her bed and falling asleep.

 _I can't wait for trouble to come to me, anymore,_ she thought as she smiled wistfully and brushed Michael's cheek with a hand. _Are you even going to remember your mother?_

She turned and padded back into the sitting room, sliding the letter out from underneath the candlestick and unfolding it, collapsing onto the plush sofa. It was probably from Sorise, catching her up on the domestic, quotidian monarchial duties that had been delegated to someone else during the day while Anna focused on matters of the empire's security. A month ago, there had not been so many of these.

Just as she flipped open the page and began to look over her advisor's familiar, cramped script, a vaguely familiar voice began across the room.

"Good evening, your majesty."

Anna glanced past the letter, frowning. She hadn't heard the servant's door, but apparently –

It was the man from earlier, the Arendane captain who'd barely escaped the attack. What was his name again? She couldn't remember. Why hadn't she seen him come in?

"Good evening, captain," she said, frowning slightly and setting the letter back down onto the table. "Forgive me, but your name has slipped my mind."

"That's very understandable, your majesty," the man said, standing up and clasping his hands behind his back. He strolled a few paces closer, but then he turned sideways and began to pace. "I don't believe that I ever told you."

Anna had a strange feeling about this man, and she began to wish that she had something on her person that she could use as a weapon. She edged slightly closer towards the candlestick and placed one hand on the table near it.

"Well, what are you here for, captain?" Anna asked.

At that moment the man began to dissolve into black smoke. Anna stifled a gasp as the darkness swirled about him for a moment as he walked, the form within seeming to shift and twist until abruptly it was human again. A woman now stepped through the haze, clad in a dark robe with a golden trim. She turned towards Anna and smiled, her voice now quite different as she spoke.

"Just a little character study," she said, turning and advancing on Anna. She slid one hand into her robes to grip something.

She lunged for the candlestick and twisted to brandish it at the advancing wizard, scrambling backwards over the couch. The woman seemed content to take her time, still grinning as she slowly prowled her way towards Anna. The door was right behind Anna, and for a moment she thought of fleeing, but then she realized why the wizard seemed to be in no rush.

 _She was in between Anna and her child._ The door to Anna's bedroom was behind the wizard, and if Anna ran, it would be trivial for her to kill the baby.

 _Oh, dear God._

Anna's back touched the room's wall, and she felt a surge of panic. She'd grown so much since she'd become empress, and she was finally starting to shape up into a good leader. For the first time since Kristoff had died, things had been starting to look up. She'd had a healthy baby, and the empire was growing stronger by the minute. It had started to look like they were actually going to be able to weather the storm.

And now she was going to die, assassinated by a single, unimportant wizard in an attack that should have been preventable.

Tears of anger started down her cheeks, and she cried out with frustration, letting irrational urge overtake her as she charged the wizard. Her face registered shock a heartbeat before Anna swung the candelabra at her like a cudgel, smashing it into the woman's face. The witch stumbled backwards, collapsing to the floor a moment before her nose started to run with blood.

"Fucking hell," the woman said, clutching at her nose and then springing back up to slash the air between them.

Anna stepped backwards, eyes widening as she kinesthetically sensed the passage of the knife. Her resolve was fading as quickly as it had come, and she was starting to feel foolish and scared. She made another tentative attack, but this time she was slow and predictable, and the wizard slammed the flat of her knife against the candelabra. It vibrated intensely, and Anna cried out with pain and dropped it. She stumbled but recovered, gripped with intense fear.

 _Why didn't I ever listen to Elsa when she told me that I should learn how to protect myself?_ She thought, backing up again and moaning when she hit the wall. In the other room, Michael began to cry plaintively, redoubling Anna's terror. Her baby boy was as good as dead, and she couldn't do anything about it.

The wizard rubbed at her nose with a sleeve, the blood leaving barely-visible marks on the black cloth. "That _hurt,_ " she said angrily, closing the gap between herself and Anna.

Anna threw a punch, but the woman caught it and twisted Anna's arm painfully into the wall. She cried out, and the witch ran her knife into the wall just beside Anna's head. Anna screamed, but the woman seemed to have just been looking for somewhere to put it – with her now-free other hand, she gripped Anna's other wrist and wrenched down to her knees. She pressed Anna's wrists together and clamped them into a pair of strange, metal manacles.

Anna struggled, but it was to no avail. "Please don't kill him," she whimpered now, tears running down her cheeks. "Please don't kill him."

"Who?" The witch said, frowning and looking down at Anna. "Oh, the baby? Yeah, whatever. I'm not here to kill people. No, I need you alive to make sure I can play a convincing duplicate. I mean, eventually I'll know enough about you that I won't need you anymore, but that could be months from now. Why don't you try and relax for a minute while I go check on the nurse, okay? Gotta make sure our friend doesn't wake up in the middle of anything awkward."

She drew a vial of something liquid from within her robes and padded back into the bedroom, still speaking as she did.

"In any case, I'll be working pretty closely with you for the foreseeable future, Anna Siguror, so I suppose some introductions are in order."

Michael abruptly stopped crying, and Anna's breath caught.

The witch walked back into the room, cradling the baby in one arm as she returned the vial to her robes with the other. "You can call me Calypso Vay," she said, sitting down on the sofa and crossing one leg over the other. "I'm a changeling, probably the best one alive. Certainly the most thorough. A lot of my colleagues don't have the same appreciation for the craft that I do."

Anna looked down at the manacles that bound her hands. They were engraved with softly glowing runes, and they were made of a dark metal that she did not recognize.

Calypso Vay indicated towards the cuffs with her free hand. "They told me that you weren't a wizard, but I didn't really want to take any chances. After all, your sister's the most powerful wizard alive, so I didn't want to count you out of being able to do _something._ "

Anna slowly dragged herself to her feet and looked around, trying to take stock of her situation. She was trapped in a room with a wizard who was going to try to take her identity. Her hands were locked together, and… she noticed the servant's bell, a length of twine that dangled from a hook on the wall across the room.

"Yeah, if you pull on that, I'm gonna have to kill your baby and make it look like you did," Calypso said laconically, waving a hand. "Me saying that I wasn't gonna kill him was predicated on you not doing anything incredibly stupid."

Anna shakily sat in the chair across the table from the sofa. For some reason, her fear-addled mind noted that Calypso Vay had an accent she didn't recognize. It sounded vaguely similar to Kariena's, so she was probably American. Not that knowing this was any help to Anna.

"And let me tell ya, I'd hate to have to do it. He's a cute kid. What's his name?"

"Michael," Anna said hollowly.

"Michael," Calypso repeated. "Reason why?"

"The archangel."

"Ah, the archangel that was fabled to have led the armies of God against the darkness. Poetic. Very nice." Calypso closed her eyes and smiled, and Anna had the strange sensation that she was _absorbing_ the information, rather than committing it to memory. "Okay, so I have a few simple sentences that I'm going to need you to say for me so I can get a better grasp on your accent. That sound good?"  
Calypso's strangely jovial attitude made this entire thing feel surreal. Anna moaned softly again.

"First one: 'She cleared her throat, but her words still sounded naturally hoarse.'"

xxx

Hans ducked underneath a spear of shadow and swung his weapons about in a flurry of steel. Everdark's form flowed through the air, becoming increasingly incorporeal as the fight progressed, but Hans could tell where it would materialize again almost every time. Hans saw one of his shadows impaled by a dark bolt, and he dove to the side, rolling to a crouch and watching as Elsa leapt over his head and sent a wave of ice into the inky darkness.

Everdark seemed to be growing more desperate as time progressed. It was no longer speaking, and it rarely touched down anywhere in the square for more than a second at a time. Hans did not spare any thoughts to it, lest his concentration slip, but he felt viscerally that they were actually winning. He phased out to step through a charging nightmare and saw Everdark pass into the same realm, its form becoming clear and bright to him even as it teleported around the battlefield to Elsa's eyes.

He charged forwards and brought both of his swords down on the Dark God. It growled, a deep, angry sound, and turned a wild eye towards him. He felt its corruption attempt to enter his mind as he slashed at it again and again, spraying a dark and ocherous blood onto the spectral cobblestones beneath him, but there was no purchase to be found with him anymore. Everdark slipped back into reality an instant later, and Hans followed. The creature's form stumbled, and then it slammed the staff of its scythe into the ground and sent out an infernal wave.

Hans dove for the ground, but the arcane energy lifted him, throwing him backwards into the wall of a building. He hit the cobblestones and rolled back to his feet. Elsa stood amidst a tempest of light and snow, advancing towards Everdark while a storm of icicles bombarded the dark God. A barrier of black energy separated them, but it wavered, weakening and threatening to falter under the assault.

In his mind's eye, he saw a spectral trace of himself sprint towards Everdark just as its wards faltered. It fell to its knees, and he rammed a sword through its heart. Hans's breath quickened, and he felt himself begin to run.

Everdark roared, and its barrier fell. Instantly, it was skewered many times by icicles. Hans ran a dark form through on his blade and phased through another, and then he was beside Everdark and he raised his sword –

Hans felt a dull thud. He glanced down and saw one of Everdark's claw-like hands buried in his gut. Blood was beginning to seep onto Everdark's fingers. He growled and made to skewer Everdark on his blade, but the God twisted and caught his arm with its other hand. It clenched its fist, and he felt his arm break.

"NO!" Elsa screamed, and Hans twisted to see that her magic had abruptly winked out.

Hans tried to move, but Everdark's strength seemed to be returning, and it stood now, a wicked smile returning to its beaked mouth.

"Ardentum let you borrow his foresight, didn't he?" Everdark asked, adjusting his grip on Hans and raising him over its head. "Some futures are more likely than others. It looks like I got lucky."

Hans tried to phase out, but when he looked inwards for his magic, it was nowhere to be found. He groaned.

Everdark extended a knee and dropped Hans onto it. His hand tore free from Hans's stomach, and Hans winced as he saw his own entrails twist outwards from the bloody tear, but it was forgotten when his back shattered against Everdark's knee. He cried out in pain and hit the ground hard.

xxx

Elsa cried out with fury as Hans rolled to a stop on the ground, and she charged towards Everdark.

 _Don't lose your resolve this time,_ a voice inside of her seemed to say. _You need to keep fighting, no matter what happens._

She slung Rimeheart outwards towards Everdark, and its scythe appeared in its hands to deflect the blow. She roared and threw an icicle at it as she struck again, but Everdark pulsed outwards with darkness, and she was thrown back to ground. As she tried to roll to her feet, she was ensconced in darkness, holding her fast to the cobblestones and binding her limbs.

"Really, sometimes all it takes is one slip-up," Everdark said, clenching his fist.

The pressure on Elsa became greater than anything she had ever felt, and she began to scream. Ice swirled around her, but it did nothing to free her from the dark grasp. She tried to focus and start attacking Everdark again, but she couldn't even see for all the stars flashing in her vision.

"You almost defeated me," Everdark said, striding across the square until it stood beside Elsa's writhing form. "I will admit that. But we're done now."

Everdark raised its scythe to deal the final blow.

xxx

Ardentum watched with horror as first Hans, and then Elsa were defeated by Everdark. He saw the God of Darkness raise its weapon to destroy her. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't think. Ever since he had learned of the existence of the Protector, he had held out hope that she would be able to fulfill the prophecies and slay the God of Darkness. He had dreamed of a world where he would be free again.

But now he saw that dream burning before his very eyes. The silvery preimage of Everdark's scythe began to fall, and Ardentum began to drag himself to his feet. He had to run. He was going to die if he stayed here, he was going to –

He saw a spectral version of himself leap out of his chest and charge across the square, _towards_ Everdark. It slid to the ground near Elsa and threw its arms around her just as the scythe struck, and then they were gone.

Ardentum barely realized that he was mirroring the movements until he felt his knees split open on the abrasive stone. He heard Everdark roar something as he threw his arms around the Protector and fixed the destination of his home in the Sea of Stars firmly in his mind, but it was too late for the God of Darkness to stop him.

He felt a horrible pain, and then there was nothingness.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

 _Close tear hearts mend heart tears close._

– _unknown_

* * *

Edge of the Black Forest,

Gaul

January 3rd, 57 AD

The Mender Hythirion sat cross-legged on a woven mat inside her tent. The smoky entrails of a fire, just extinguished, trickled through the air before her, in time with the pitter-patter of rain outside. She held a hand out to the space underneath the smoke-hole in the top of her tent and felt the droplets. The rain had not let up for some weeks now, turning the roads to muck and stalling the advance of the army. It had driven the men of war to short tempers, but Hythirion knew that father north they would be greeted with even colder temperatures and snow.

"Mender Hythirion," a man's voice sounded, breaking her from her silent reverie.

She glanced up as one of the flaps to her tent was pulled aside and a young man entered her tent, dripping with rain. There was a sense of urgency to his face.

"It is happening again."

xxx

Hythirion stormed into the tent, casting her gaze about with concern. One of the nonmagical healers, an elderly woman with silvery hair, laid moaning upon a bedroll at the back of the tent, surrounded by soldiers clad in their bronze armor and kamas. This was the latest in a string of bizarre possessions that had been afflicting soldiers and civilians in their army alike. At first, Hythirion had assumed that the attacks were mundane in nature, caused by spoilt food or bad humors. Now, however, she had begun to suspect something less ordinary to be behind this all.

"Mender Hythirion! Why do you search the tent? Healer Sahin is right here," one of the young men said.

Sahin's eyes flickered, and she abruptly sat up, struggling against the arms of the men who tried to gently lay her back down. She shouted in an incoherent tongue, and then collapsed back to the bedroll, her breath coming heavily.

"I have thought long about what may be causing these attacks," Hythirion said as she knelt beside Sahin and placed her hand on the woman's forehead. Hythirion closed her eyes and touched the healer's lifeline, channeling magic into it. As it had for each of the others who had come down with this spell, Sahin's lifeforce felt bizarre and alien to Hythirion, different than the essence of any human she'd felt before. "I am convinced that Healer Sahin and the others have been possessed by a spirit."

"Those words," one of the soldiers said. "They sound like those of the barbarian tribes from the far north."

Hythirion had thought so, too. She did not know the language of the heathen Celts, but the army had encountered a marauding warband during the campaign, and it had largely been upon her recommendation that they had made peace with the savages rather than war.

Hythirion frowned. She had an idea. "Leave us," she said, looking around herself. "All of you. I must have space to work."

They all hurried to comply, though a few of them cast uncertain glances backwards when Healer Sahin began murmuring again. Soon, Hythirion was alone, and she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She reached inside, and in her mind's eye she saw the web of magic through which all living things were intertwined. She furrowed her brow and tried to look beyond the lifelines.

Hythirion knew there was more to reality than what even she could see. The title of Mender conferred to her many responsibilities, and a wide swath of powers. She had a powerful sense that there was something just beyond her comprehension happening with these random attacks of insanity that had struck seemingly at random within the army these last moons. This time, Hythirion began to let herself hope that things would be different. This was the first time that the possessed had tried to speak. Perhaps it was a cryptic clue. Perhaps –

 _There._

Hythirion felt something that she hadn't before. A new lifeline, with the same alien feel as the one binding Healer Sahin to the soul of the world. It was… distant, faraway, somehow. Not in spatial distance, but in some distinct way that Hythirion couldn't quite understand. She reached out to touch it, and to her surprise, _it_ reached out to _her._ Her breath quickened as she saw a hand in her mind's eye, straining towards her. The fingers wavered, and then they brushed against hers. Hythirion felt something electric, a connection forged across a greater barrier than she had ever surmounted before.

And then she heard a voice, in a language that she knew she could not understand, and yet somehow the meaning of the words was clear to her.

"I've been watching you for quite some time, Mender Hythirion," said the voice of a young woman. Hythirion opened her eyes again, and she was not startled to see that there was someone new standing on the other side of the tent. She was shorter than Hythirion, by a small amount, and she wore strange clothing. She had a strange sort of mask on her face, shaped metal that held circular, translucent disks over her eyes. "My name is Odette Marie Novare, and it is good to finally meet you. I apologize for the way that I've been connecting with you so far. Something about this is an inexact science, and for the minor sickness it has been causing, I apologize."

Hythirion stood up, wondering how to communicate back. Was she supposed to speak aloud, or think the words in her mind?

"You can just think them," Odette answered the unspoken question. She smiled slightly. "I can hear you."

"Gods," Hythirion murmured, glancing upwards. She then looked back at the young woman.

 _Are you a god?_

"No," Odette said, laughing lightly. "No, not particularly close. I'm from the future. About eighteen hundred years from now, I will be a Mender as well. We possess a relic from the past, that has granted me the ability to look backwards. I've been observing you for several months now. I must thank you for teaching me how to create the portals that you use to transport your army. They have been critically useful to us."

Hythirion stared. _Eighteen hundred years,_ she thought, her mind boggling at the sheer scope of such a span of time. She could think of nothing but the pyramids in Egypt or the Hanging Gardens in the fertile crescent so ancient. Even the oldest remnants of the Greek Empire were young by comparison.

Odette nodded. "A lot has changed since your time, Hythirion. But unfortunately, I must tell you that I did not try to connect with you for the academic pleasure of meeting you. I must admit that I hope you can teach me something."

Hythirion blinked. _The bonds,_ she thought. _You wish to know how to complete the path of the Mender._

"No," Odette said. "No, I've been a full mender since last October. I need you to tell me more about something you once said to your leader Arixes."

Hythirion frowned. _What is that?_

"I suppose that you merely implied it, rather than saying it in so many words," Odette said, "but you indicated to him that you might have the ability to turn his child into a wizard. I need you to teach me how to do this."

Hythirion shook her head. _I cannot do such a thing._

Odette crossed her arms. "You cannot do it, or you will not?"

 _I_ cannot, Hythirion emphasized. _The Gods have told me that I possess such a power, but I have never been able to use it. I made the mistake of telling Arixes of the premonition, but I could not tell him of my incapability. My position of influence here is founded on my competence, and I would be challenged if it was discovered that I was not fully in command of my capabilities._

Hythirion's eyes narrowed. _But then you must not be a full Mender, if you cannot do this._

Odette shrugged. "I have formed the necessary bonds to complete my path. Whether or not we can perform all the possible permutations of our ability is irrelevant to our status as an archmage, I believe."

Odette leaned back against the tent. If she were really here, it would not have been able to support her weight, but her spectral form defied the laws of nature.

 _That is a question for a philosopher, not for me,_ Hythirion admitted. _I apologize, Mender Novare, but I do not have the power that you seek. I assume that evoking magic in another must involve imbuing something from myself into their lifeline, but try as I might, I have not found what that is._

Odette nodded, removing the strange lenses from her face and wiping them on the edge of her shirt. "I feared as much. I've tried all the same things, so I guess we're doing it wrong."

 _Perhaps the Gods lie,_ Hythirion thought. _I have begun to have second thoughts about the righteousness of our army's campaign in these northern lands, and perhaps this is no different._

"Well, they certainly only tell the truth when it's to their benefit," Odette said, stepping away from the wall again. "Very well then. Thank you for answering my question, even if you are as dissatisfied with the answer as I am. There's still a few other things that I would like to ask you but –"

Odette abruptly fell silent, and her brow knitted with concern. Hythirion could sense a wavering in her lifeline, almost as if it had just shuddered back and forth between Odette's reality and her own.

 _What was th –_

"I apologize, but I have to go," Odette said, a new sense of urgency in her voice. "A friend of mine has just been gravely injured."

Suddenly, Hythirion felt an overwhelming fear that this would be the only time she spoke to this Odette. But they still had so much to learn from each other! Hythiron had so many questions –

"Don't worry," Odette said, glancing over at Hythirion again and flashing her a quick smile, "I plan on coming back."

Then her eyes ignited with a rose-colored flame, and she placed her hands together before herself in a position not unlike one of prayer. Her lifeline stuttered again, and then it was gone; her physical form was surrounded by swirling trails of blue-and-pink energy, and then it was gone, too. The tent felt colder. Hythirion blinked and looked around herself.

How terribly exciting. Another Mender!

Hythirion frowned. A Mender who seemed even more competent than her.

xxx

Odette returned to the world and immediately sprung to her feet. She stumbled and hit the rickety bedside table, sending it and everything atop it clattering to the floor. A pot of ink cracked and spilled its contents onto the floor, but Odette whirled around and pulled her trunk out from underneath the bed, throwing it open and pulling out clothes. She never wore armor into battle – it was sort of unnecessary – but she did wear a padded jacket and a quilted shirt that could absorb some trivial blows. Might as well only spend energy healing the real ones.

Odette stood up and threw open the door, stepping into the cramped hallway in the inn that the Unified Empire had commandeered in Milan to house their army. Kariena opened her door on the other side of the hallway, already jamming her arm through a sleeve.

"What's going on?" She asked. "I heard you knocking things over."

"Hans is in trouble," Odette said frantically. "His lifeline is very weak. We need to get to him, now."

Kariena paled for a moment, and then ran back into her room. She came out a few seconds later with her knife belt, and she hurriedly did the clasp around her waist. She nodded to Odette.

"Alright, let's go get him."

Fifteen minutes later when Odette stepped through the wargate into Venice, she was immediately struck by the stench. She'd read in books before that many visitors to the city were startled by the feculent, clinging stench of the waterways, but there was something else, too.

Odette walked to the room's only window, which was shattered and looked out into the canal. Low fires were burning in the city, including on the water itself in places. The familiar scent of burned buildings and burned bodies was now starkly apparent to Odette, just the same as it was when Arendelle had been sacked late last year. Unconsciously, she reached inside herself and closed her eyes, searching for lifelines.

"There's nothing," she murmured forlornly. "They've slaughtered them all," she said.

She had been broken from her vision earlier by a sudden shock to Hans's lifeline, something that had weakened it substantially and brought him far closer to death. Now, she felt a hole in her stomach as she searched desperately for some trace of him in this city, but there was nothing.

"Oh, no," Odette moaned. She felt Kariena's presence beside her, then the girl's arm on her shoulder.

"What is it? Where is he?"

 _Please,_ Odette thought.

Where the hell was Elsa? Odette could sense her lifeline, fused in an indescribable way with Odette's own, strong and vibrant, and yet nowhere close by. She was supposed to be _with_ Hans, yet Odette knew that she wasn't in Venice. What had happened? Growing increasingly frantic, Odette mentally doubled back, combing back through the city again. She strained against the limits of her awareness, picking up little traces from birds and mice here and there and –

 _There._ She sensed a familiar presence, wavering on the brink of death, in the center of the city.

"I found him," Odette said, excitedly. "Come on, we have to hurry!"

But Kariena was already slipping through the window, landing on the sidewalk before the canal. She turned around to help Odette through, and then they started to run.

xxx

Kariena screamed when they first laid eyes upon Hans's broken body. He laid in the center of a square before a building that must once have had an impressive façade but was now crumbling and destroyed. A fountain stood shattered some feet from Hans, and the corpse of an old man lay still beside it. There was a great pool of blood about Hans, some already dried and some fresher. He laid upon his stomach, his arms clutched at his abdomen, his head twisted sideways. Odette felt a surge of dread, accompanied by a visceral flashback to the sight of his bloodless body resting upon the altar in New York City last July.

"NO!" Kariena screamed, dashing across the square to him. She collapsed beside him and let out a plaintive, haunting scream.

Odette's mind blanked for several seconds, but then she came back.

She could still feel his lifeline, a fragile, gossamer thread that tied him to the earth. She wasn't going to lose him. Not again.

Odette sprinted after Kariena and slid to the ground beside him, plunging into her well of magic and drawing the power into herself. Her body grew warm, and she placed her hands onto his shoulder blades. She could sense his wounds now, and she drew a sharp breath. One of his arms was broken, and his abdomen was rent open. Many of his organs were destroyed, and his spine was shattered. He had lost enough blood to kill a man. He should have been dead.

And yet…

Odette reached out with her mind and touched his lifeline. She could feel his consciousness in that moment, a swirling torrent of light flecked with bits of inextinguishable darkness. He was out there, not yet passed into the Watcher's realm. Waiting to be recalled to life.

"It's time to come back to us," Odette whispered to herself. Then she took a deep breath and poured everything she had into his lifeline.

Light erupted from Hans's body, so bright that it burned at Odette's eyes. His lifeline wavered for a moment, and then it began to grow stronger as his wounds began to reknit. Odette wove new life into him, bringing together magic and his body's cells to regenerate organs that had been sundered beyond repair. His vertebrae realigned, causing his form to twist on the ground, and then they became whole again. His arm reset, and the bones rejoined where they had broken.

Hans was silent for a moment, and then he drew a gasping breath.

Kariena cried out and helped to roll him onto his back. He looked around, surprised to find that he was no longer fighting, and he looked dazed as Kariena threw her arms around his neck and began to sob with relief. He looked past her towards Odette, who slumped backwards with exhaustion.

"Where is she?"

"I was hoping you knew the answer to that," Odette said wearily. "I know she's alive, I can sense that much. But wherever she is, she's not here."

Hans dragged himself to his feet, and immediately stumbled, collapsing to one knee. Kariena reached out to help him, but he waved her away and shakily stood up. He pulled back his shirt to reveal his abdomen and palpated at it. Odette was surprised to see a dark ring of scar-like tissue etched into his skin. There was never any physical reminder of a person's injury after Odette healed them. She frowned.

"How do you feel, Hans?" She asked.

"Weak," he admitted, allowing Kariena to slide an arm around him to help support him. "But I'm not surprised that there's lasting damage, all things considered. The only reason that I'm alive is that Everdark assumed that I was already dead, I think."

"Everdark?" Kariena repeated.

Hans grimly met each of their eyes in turn. "It was here," he said. "We fought it. We… we had a chance, we really did. But the moment something went wrong, well…"

Hans sighed. "The whole house of cards came crashing down."

"Where is Everdark now?" Odette asked, glancing back around the square. There was a lot of blood dried to the cobblestones, not all of it Hans's. It made her worry.

"I don't know," Hans said, shaking his head. "Everdark broke my back, and I fell unconscious after that. I don't have any idea what happened."

 _What if Everdark has some way to make me keep feeling Elsa's lifeline, even if she's dead?_ Odette thought, her pulse quickening.

Hans made his way across the square with Kariena's assistance, stopping where one of his swords lay discarded on the ground. With some effort, he managed to scoop it up and shove it back into its scabbard. He glanced over at the old man's body, which Odette had forgotten about until now.

"Who is that?" She asked.

"His name was Novendon," Hans said. "But I only know that from Elsa. Apparently, he was the man in charge of Everdark's wizards. The Immortal boy was here, too. Ardentum. He seemed conflicted. I don't know. He tried to help us fight Everdark."

"Ardentum?" Odette asked, frowning. "He was here?"

"He was able to grant me his power, somehow," Hans said. "I could see into the future, if only a moment or two. But he didn't fight."

"He's gone, too, then," Kariena said.

Hans looked around, as if this was the first time he'd really considered that. "Yes, he is."

Odette's fear began to boil up again, constricting her throat. "Oh, god," she moaned softly. "Elsa's captured again. They must have gotten into her mind again, somehow."

Hans turned and met Odette's gaze. "Maybe, yes. But maybe not. As long as you can feel her, then we know that she's alive. And you would know if harm were to befall her, correct?"

Odette thought about it, and then nodded weakly. "Yes, I'd be able to tell if her lifeline weakened. But I'm scared that maybe Everdark found a way to interfere with the way that I'm sensing this stuff. I mean, I barely understand what I'm doing, really."

"You found a way to speak with the Mender from the past, right?" Kariena asked. "Maybe you could do something similar to try to communicate with Elsa."

Odette considered this. Elsa's ancestral amulet was instrumental in letting her communicate with Hythirion, just as it was each other time she or Elsa experienced visions from the past. But surely, whatever connection the amulet had with Hythirion, it must have an even stronger one with the Siguror family. Perhaps she _would_ be able to speak to Elsa with it, wherever she was. And if she could find Elsa, she could get to her, with a wargate or whatever other magic that was required. Odette felt her panic slowly begin to abate. Things seemed a bit less bleak than they had a moment ago.

"Yes," she said. "You're right, Kariena. That's a good idea."

Hans extricated himself from Kariena's arms and took a step away from her, testing his balance. He nodded to her when he found that he could stand on his own again. They began to walk back through the burning city towards the portal. Near the first few residences, they stopped to check for any survivors, but there were none hidden among the charred corpses. After the fifth time they sifted fruitlessly through the wreckage of a home, they gave up trying.

"Well, we've lost the city," Hans said grimly once they returned to the street. "But I have a hard time understanding how a destruction so complete could happen so quickly. We should have been ready to hold the city."

Odette cast a sidelong glance at Hans. "We weren't ready. Everdark's forces have been dormant for so long, we –"

"That's no excuse!" Hans yelled, slamming a fist against a shattered wooden doorframe.

Odette stepped backwards, shocked by the outburst. She glanced at Kariena, who stepped forwards and placed a hand on Hans's shoulder.

"When did we stop caring about individual lives?" Hans asked, indicating to the body of a small child that floated facedown in the water of the canal to their side. "When did we start treating this like a game of numbers, where as long as we can play the percentages right and keep the right proportion of people alive, we're winning?"

Odette was stunned into silence. She didn't know how to respond.

"Hans…" Kariena said softly, "we can't save them all. We just can't. People are going to die."

Hans's back was turned to Odette, but she saw his shoulders shaking slightly.

"I lost," he said, voice raw. "We all did. We can't lose anymore. The whole point of the Unified Empire is to use our powers to do what should be impossible. It's to _win,_ not just _a_ fight, but all of them. To save them, not just _one_ person, but all of them. If we can't do that, then we're nothing."

Odette found that she couldn't reply. Her confidence was shaken. She slumped back against the rough-hewn stone of a medieval building astride the canal, and she sunk to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. Hans was right. Three cities burned tonight because they'd promised peace to their empire but been unable to deliver it. Three populations massacred because they'd been promised an army to defend them, but none showed up in time. And now the Unified Empire's most powerful weapon was gone, quite possibly worlds away.

"Come on," Kariena eventually said, reaching down and prodding Odette's shoulder. "We don't give up just because we've made some mistakes. Now is when we start fixing them, okay? We're still walking through hell _together,_ Odette."  
Odette looked up at Kariena. _You're the only one of us who doesn't belong here,_ she thought. _You're not one of the archmagi, and you had no stake in this conflict until we dragged you into it. And yet somehow, you're always the optimistic one. You're always the one who keeps telling me to keep going._

 _You're right, Kariena Tae._

Odette reached out and took her hand.

xxx

Elsa opened her eyes tentatively, wondering what she would see when she did. She'd overcome strikingly unfavorable odds time and time again, but this time, her luck had run out. She was finally dead, finally taking the first step down whatever path lay beyond this life. She saw the roof of a building and realized that she was lying on her back. Elsa stood slowly, her joints complaining as she left the marble floor, but her discomfort was instantly forgotten when she took in her surroundings. She was in an airy, light marble temple, set atop a grassy hill. A cloying wind carried with it the scent of spring flowers, joyful and inviting.

Elsa walked to the edge of the temple and leaned against one of the marble colonnades, looking down the hill towards a peaceful looking village hamlet. She could make out a farmer, leading a flock of goats towards a wending stream, a flock of matronly women chatting near the little town square, and a flock of children laughing as they kicked a ball around. It looked incredibly serene.

"So, this is heaven," she murmured to herself softly. "I have to admit; atheism didn't end up working out so well."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," a strained voice came from nearby.

Elsa glanced down and saw Ardentum sprawled out on the marble steps to the temple. Elsa's brow furrowed.

"I don't picture you being present when I think of heaven," she said.

"This isn't heaven," Ardentum replied.

He shifted his position, and took his hand away from his side, grimacing as he did. Ardentum's hand was slick with blood, and instantly Elsa's joviality died. She knelt beside him, gulping.

"Shit. Shit, shit. What the hell happened?"

She peeled Ardentum's shirt away from the grisly wound along his side, and he cried out. Exposed, she could see that the gash was almost a foot long, and rather deep. It wasn't bleeding much, despite its size; strangely, it seemed to be already partially scabbed over with a dark, ocherous-looking substance.

"What happened is I took a blow for you," Ardentum groaned, his eyes watering.

Instantly, Elsa recalled fleeting impressions from the last moments of her fight with Everdark. Ardentum had ran to her just as it was bringing its scythe down for the killing blow, and then he threw his arms around her and –

Nothing. Nothing until she'd opened her eyes in this temple.

Elsa didn't know what to say. She started to panic as she realized that Odette wasn't here; there was no one here who could heal him.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said, annoyed at herself for deflecting. She reached out and tentatively palpated the skin near the wound.

Ardentum hissed and waved her hand away. He turned his gaze back to her. "I certainly wouldn't have if I'd known you would act like this," he said, the humor in his voice a poor mask for the pain.

He shook his head. "Of course I should have. You are the only one who can truly defeat Everdark, Elsa Siguror. Faced with a choice between your life and my own, any rational person would make the same choice as I did."

"Don't talk like this, Ardentum," Elsa said, realizing that she very much did not want him to die. He looked so young, younger than Anna. "Come on, get up. Where are we? We need to get you to someone who can heal you."

Ardentum coughed, and a thin line of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. His eyes seemed to become unfocused for a moment before he fixed his gaze on Elsa again.

"We're in the Sea of Stars," he said, voice growing weaker. "My home, a place called Ysgard. So far from the center of the Sea that Everdark's forces have not yet reached it. Elsa, you must find support here."

"No, Ardentum," Elsa was saying, hardly hearing his words. She started to stand, wondering whether she could call out. Would anyone hear her up here? "Just stay here for a second, I'm going to find you help –"

"Elsa, I'm going to die," Ardentum said. One corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a crooked smile. "Nothing can change that now, not even your wife. Please listen to me. You will need to find supporters. Gather an army. As large as you can."

Ardentum coughed again, and Elsa realized that she was beginning to cry. She returned to the steps of the temple and knelt by Ardentum again.

"Everdark will come for you, know that it knows you're in the Sea. But you have time. Ysgard is far from the center, very far. It can only be reached with the Worldgate."

Elsa remembered that it had taken her three weeks to travel from the City of Brass to the Worldgate through the endless tower Nahat'Tiemn. She nodded, biting her lip and blinking.

"Tell them who you are," Ardentum said, raising a shaking hand to clasp Elsa's shoulder. "You must be their leader. Be… be their Protector."

"Ardentum, please, just hang on a little longer, we can get you help," Elsa said, but he was already closing his eyes. He groaned softly, and the tension slowly left his body. A tear fell from Elsa's face to land on the boy's cheek, and then another.

"Ardentum," she whispered, but it was too late.

Ardentum died in her arms.

Elsa pressed her forehead to the boy-god's and cried. She cried for him, who had proven himself noble in his final moments. She cried for the world, which she had failed to protect from Everdark's spite and hatred. And she cried for herself, trapped and alone in a place very far from home.

The End

of Arc Eight

of Trials of Light and Darkness


	27. Interlude - Elsa

Interlude – Elsa

 _We were so close. So close._

 _Elsa_

* * *

Ysgard,

The Sea of Stars

February 25th, 1844

Eleshka Pelerine sat on the stone bench surrounding the fountain, rubbing a wool shirt against the washing board. Again and again, the rhythmic motion. It was dull, but soothing work, the kind that Eleshka didn't hate. Her father always said that the most rewarding work was the kind that presented a new puzzle each day, constantly evolving, so that you had to as well. But Eleshka had never cared for that sort of thing. She preferred her work menial, so that the challenges that she faced were of her own invention.

Eleshka's concentration lapsed for a moment as she looked inwards upon the well of magic inside. She embraced it, and then closed her eyes. Beyond herself, and roughly below, was the worldsoul. Rich and vibrant, and a color that she knew wouldn't quite make sense to her if she saw it with eyes wide open. Familiar, in a way that made her special. Eleshka did not know anyone else with powers like hers, and that made her happy.

She opened her eyes again and focused her gaze on a patch of wildflowers growing through a cracked cobblestone a few feet away. She extended her hand towards the wildflowers and exhaled softly.

 _Don't you think that those flowers are beautiful, Ysgard?_

The Worldsoul hummed softly to her. She smiled.

 _Don't you think that they would be more beautiful if they grew a bit more?_

The Worldsoul concurred, and the flowers began to grow, their stalks strengthening and their petals opening upwards towards the sun. Their colors grew brighter, and one of them developed a new shade entirely, now a variegated mixture of two different yellows.

 _Thank you, Ysgard._

"That was… impressive," an unfamiliar voice said. "I've never seen someone with abilities like yours before."

Eleshka turned, startled out of her gentle reverie with the world. An Illinir with the form of a young woman stood several paces away, hands on the pommel of a gleaming white blade resting point-first on the ground. She stifled a gasp, the color fleeing from her face.

"Do you speak my language?" The woman asked, moving her mouth in such a way as to make her enunciation very clear. "They did at the City of Brass, though I'm afraid that's very far away."

Eleshka leapt to her feet and bowed, trying not to betray her supreme discomfort and ill-concealed fear.

"Greetings, wandering Illinir. Welcome to our humble village. Have you been made comfortable yet?"

"Illinir?" The woman asked, sounding faintly bemused. She shifted her weight, and the sword's tip split a hairline crack in the cobblestone its point lay against.

 _That must be a very strong weapon,_ Eleshka thought, _otherwise she wouldn't be so careless driving the point into the stone. Then again, maybe Illinir don't need to worry about things like replacing a sword._

"Perhaps they do not use such a title in your lands, goddess. I apologize for my ignorance." Eleshka glanced downwards and winced. She knew firsthand that Illinir could be wrathful, lashing out at small indignities.

The woman walked over and indicated to a space beside Eleshka on the stone lip of the fountain. Eleshka noticed for the first time that the clothes she wore were rather mundane, far from the opulent garb that Count Waleran once wore. They were also ripped, and charred, as if she had been doing something dangerous in them, and yet her skin beneath was clear and unblemished, glowing softly with the light of a full immortal.

"May I?" She asked.

Eleshka nodded nervously. One did not deny the wishes of an Illinir, especially one who was crafty enough to appear pleasant and sociable to an Armir. They were always looking for an opportunity to act upon old grudges and extend the oppression of her people. Ever since Count Waleran had been recalled to the center three years ago, Ysgard had been one of the few places in the Sea of Stars totally free from the influence of the full-gods. Some called it paradise.

"I'm not an Illinir," the woman said, sighing and stretching her legs out as she sat. She rested the sword across her lap, point away from Eleshka. Even from here, Eleshka could feel that it emitted a supernatural cold. "And to be honest, I still don't really understand the difference between the words 'Illinir' and 'Armir.'"

"Are you trying to test me?" Eleshka asked nervously. "Because if you are, goddess, I have to tell you that I –"

Eleshka fell silent as the woman extended a hand to rub at one of her calves, and Eleshka saw that her forearm was crossed with several scars. Illinir did not scar. But how, then, did she emit the same rainbow glow that all other full immortals did? Eleshka wondered if some sort of trickery was at hand. When she was young, she had heard nursery rhymes about trickster gods arriving at far-flung hamlets wearing an unfamiliar face.

The woman turned to face Eleshka, and for the first time, she noticed an extreme weariness in those turquoise eyes. Whoever this person was, they seemed in desperate need of rest.

"My name is Elsa Siguror," she said. "I'm a human, from earth. And I'm afraid that I have some bad news."

Eleshka tried to suppress her bafflement. A human? It could not be. One had not been to Ysgard for longer than either of her parents had been alive. And one from outside the Sea no less. And yet… and yet those arms proved that she could not be a full immortal, and no Armir would be able to carry such a magnificent blade. By the Lost Immortals, she had to be telling the truth.

"My name is Eleshka Pelerine," she replied nervously. "What bad news?"

"A young man named Ardentum once lived here," Elsa said, and then glanced away, her gaze eventually settling on the wildflowers that Eleshka had grown. "He's dead."

Eleshka's face drained of color again, and she placed a hand to her chest. _No._ When Ardentum had been taken by the forces of Everdark, the entire village had mourned for him as if he were dead. They had pragmatic, refusing to be seduced by the notion that he might one day come back alive. But then rumor had spread, all the way back to Ysgard, that he had somehow earned a position of adviser to Everdark, using his power to help it enact its spanning plans. They had been given reason to hope.

"You knew him?" Elsa asked, eyes searching Eleshka's own.

Eleshka nodded, her eyes blurring with sudden tears. "He was my brother."

xxx

Elsa stood before a weathered wooden desk that reminded her of Agnarr's. There was only one building in this little village that didn't seem to be devoted to the agriculture that sustained them, and in it lived the mayor and his family, including his daughter Eleshka. Vargo Pelerine sat behind the desk, his face a mask of grief as he stared at his hands, crossed before him on the hardwood. Eleshka stood behind him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"He was very brave," Elsa said softly. "For what it's worth."

"First we lose your mother, and now this. Fate has conspired to be cruel to us, Eleshka. He reached up and placed a hand over Eleshka's, eventually turning his gaze to Elsa. "Thank you," he said. "For bringing him back to us. We will be able to give him a proper burial."

Elsa nodded solemnly. She had laid him upon a stone altar in the temple at the top of the hill, like some sort of pagan sacrifice.

"Mayor Pelerine," Elsa said carefully, "I'm afraid that I must ask something of you."

Vargo shook his head, and abruptly stood up. "I am sorry, Miss Siguror, but I cannot speak right now. I must –" his voice choked momentarily. "I must excuse myself."

He swept out of the room, his body already shivering.

Eleshka watched him go, her own face masked with hurt. "You must forgive us," she said. "We already mourned for Ardentum, when he was taken by Everdark's forces, but when we heard rumor that he had not been killed by them, and that he had actually earned a position of influence within their ranks, we started to hope that we might see him again one day."

Elsa nodded. "I understand," she said, "but all the same I am afraid that this can't wait. I need to find a way back to earth. To my home."

Eleshka frowned. "That's not a small thing to ask for. I know of only one way to get from the Sea of Stars to earth, and it's far, far away. I've never met anyone from earth before, and until recently I always thought that it was just a legend. But then we heard rumors that Everdark was using it to invade the earth as well."

"You speak of the Worldgate in Nahat'Tiemn?" Elsa asked, twisting Rimeheart over and over again in a hand. Her weapon now held the form of a thin knife, not unlike one you'd find in a chef's kitchen, but she had found that inexplicably since she'd arrived, she'd been unable to dismiss the sword. It had been lying beside her when she'd woken up in the temple, and it wouldn't go away.

"Yes," Eleshka said, nodding. "But how did you and Ardentum get here?"

"I don't know," Elsa admitted. "Part of Ardentum's powers, I suppose. He was able to teleport. But only very long distances, as near as I can tell. I know a short-distance teleporter, and it seemed very different than that."

Eleshka frowned. "I never knew him to have such a power. When he left Ysgard, all he could do was see into the near future."

"Yes, well, that seemed to be what he described his power as, too," Elsa said. Then she frowned. "Maybe this has something to do with being one of Everdark's close advisers. Maybe they've figured something out that we haven't."

"You're really fighting against Everdark?" Eleshka asked, sounding as if she couldn't really bring herself to believe it. "No one in the Sea of Stars has ever been able to challenge its power. I mean, it's the reason that the Lost Immortals are lost in the first place. But you… you've really fought it and survived?"

"I might have been the _only_ survivor," Elsa said grimly, a deep pang in her chest reminding her of the horror she'd felt watching Hans's spine shattered by the foul creature. "We don't exactly have a great track record against it."

Eleshka stared at her, the Armir's face unreadable.

"There _is_ a resistance," Elsa said. "On earth. We've brought together many people to fight for their lives with us. It's led by my sister."

Eleshka couldn't believe her ears. "I never knew that humans could be so powerful," she said. "You are strong enough to survive an encounter with Everdark, and yet you are not even the strongest wizard in your family? Your sister must be a force of nature."

Elsa smiled slightly. "She _is_ a force of nature, but that isn't how things wok for us. She isn't magical at all, actually."

Eleshka nodded. "I see."

Elsa frowned as a sudden realization dawned on her. "Wait a minute. Ardentum told me that Ysgard is so far from the core of the Sea of Stars that the only way to travel to it is using the Worldgate."

"As far as I know, that's true," Eleshka said.

"But then how do you travel the other way? How do you get from here to the City of Brass?"

Eleshka thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged. "I don't know. I know that people have tried before, but not in my lifetime, at least. Our people settled here to get away from the core, and we aren't exactly eager to return."

"Why is that?" Elsa asked, furrowing her brow.

"The same reason that I was frightened of you when I thought you were an Illinir," Eleshka said. "Half-immortals live in oppression when they live amongst their full-blooded kin. You may not have noticed it in the City of Brass, because the Illinir do a good job of concealing it, but the Armir are a subjugated people. Our blood is considered weak and impure."

Elsa cast her memory back to her time in the City of Brass. She recalled that there had been a ruling consulate of five.

"Are there only five Illinir in the City of Brass?"

"Only five families," Eleshka said. "But their definition of family is more expansive than an Armir's, and I would imagine so for a human as well. It includes some who aren't related by blood to a certain name, but they still use it for political or personal reasons."

Elsa leaned against the wall of the small room, beside an antiquated bookcase bearing dusty, leather-bound tomes. She sighed and raked a hand through her loose hair. She hadn't been braiding it as much recently as she used to – there never seemed to be time to keep up appearances these days. Just enough time to rake a brush through and yank out the knots. Part of her wanted to cut it all off. She knew that Odette didn't give a damn what her hair looked like.

"Well, I'm going to need to find a way out of here. I don't have much time to lose, either. Is there anyone in this village who could help me?"

Eleshka glanced towards the ceiling. "Well," she said, "I can't promise anything, but I think that your best bet is old man Diosthes. He's lived here longer than anyone else."

xxx

Diosthes sat by the river that wound its way past the village, on a tree stump with a fishing pole cast out into the eddy. His being had a certain lassitude about it, as if he were about to fall asleep. They approached him along the path, and when they came near Eleshka turned to Elsa and grinned devilishly.

"Some of the other kids say that one day he's going to fall asleep and tumble right into the river."

She bounded the last few steps towards him and called out, "Hey Diosthes! Wake up!"

The venerable man's body went rigid, and he cried out, his head snapping up. He dropped his fishing pole and placed his hands on his knees, gasping. Eleshka laughed capriciously, like a sprite. Diosthes waved a finger at her.

"Why, you rotten child," he said, though his voice did not seem unkind, "I swear that you're trying to frighten me to death. It happens, you know. Why, over twenty times in my long life I've seen great men and women of a certain age startled so badly that they collapse and don't get up."

Elsa was relieved to see Eleshka laughing – if she had just learned of Anna's death, she'd be far from playing jokes. But Eleshka seemed no more than her middle teens, and Elsa knew from experience that the mood of a teenager can be difficult to predict. Indeed, almost as quickly as she had started laughing, Eleshka fell silent again, and her face seemed more somber, as if she had just remembered that she had a reason to mourn.

"I've brought a visitor to you, Diosthes," Eleshka said, pointing towards Elsa.

Elsa walked the rest of the way to Eleshka and gasped when she saw Diosthes from the front. She had seen this man before. But where?

The old man smiled at her, stooping over to retrieve his listing fishing pole from the river. "You seem surprised, young lady. But I do not remember meeting you before. Perhaps you confuse me for someone else?"

 _That voice. Coming back to me, almost as if were from a vision…_

 _A vision._

"Lost Immortals," she murmured, placing a hand over her chest. "You once went by a different name, didn't you?"

Diosthes's eyes grew sharper, and he seemed to see beyond her exterior in that moment, as if he were searching her soul itself.

"I am a very old man," he said. "In my time I have been known many different ways, to many different peoples. But still, I must say that _I_ do not remember _you,_ lady Illinir."

"She's not an Illinir," Eleshka said. "She's a human who was gifted a domain."

"Gifted a domain?" The man repeated incredulously. He swiveled his gaze back to Elsa. "Who _are_ you?"

"My name is Elsa Siguror," she said. "I am the Protector, the one who has taken up the mantle left behind by Ashanerat, who you once called friend. Because you _are_ Rhennalus, aren't you?"

The man stared at her, mouth agape. His face was unreadable for several seconds, until finally a single exclamation escaped his lips.

"At long last."

"Wait a minute," Eleshka said. "What the hell is going on? How do you know her, Diosthes? And why did she call you Rhennalus?"

The Bard Rhennalus slowly stood, wincing as his joints complained. "The answers to your questions, and those that I imagine Elsa will have, will take some time. Perhaps we should all retire to my home and I can fix us some tea."

Elsa watched as Rhennalus poured the steaming amber liquid into three plain-looking ceramic cups. He passed them around and placed a pot of sugar and a tray of cakes in the center of his small dining table, and then he sat and immediately bit into one of the cakes. He chewed and swallowed before he began, and when he did, he set his gaze on Eleshka.

"I am also a human," he said to her. She made a surprised noise, and he continued. "I am also from earth, though I have not been to the world of man for over three thousand years."

"Why are you immortal?" Eleshka asked. "I thought humans were supposed to die of age, eventually."

Rhennalus smiled. "Oh, age _is_ slowly claiming me, as anyone who can hear my joints pop would be able to tell you. But it is doing so very slowly, in large part because of what my particular magical quirk is."

"And what is that, exactly?" Elsa interrupted. "I have heard you referred to before as 'Rhennalus the Watcher,' but I don't know what that title means, exactly. Both Hans and Odette have spoken of meeting an angel named the Watcher in a place on the boundary between life and death, before. I imagine that you're connected."

Rhennalus smiled in a funny sort of way. "Actually, we aren't. The ancient city of Celestus was ruled by an arcane meritocracy, a collaborative of the most powerful wizards from the civilization. However, power was not the only metric that we were appointed by; we were also selected based on our ability to conform to an ideal set forward to us by the Lost Immortals. Not all of us were Archmagi, like your predecessor Ashanerat, and not all the varieties of Archmagi were present among our archetypes. Both I and the angel you speak of share the same fundamental purpose – to bear witness to the events that shape our world – but we achieve the goal in different ways.

"The angel who lives on the edge of death serves as a shepherd, of sorts, guiding souls into the afterlife after she learns from them about their lives. She will learn of all living things, truly all that there ever was, given enough time. When the world winds down and the last mortal passes on, contained in her mid will be a complete understanding of mortal life.

"If it is the angel's goal to learn after the fact, it is mine to chronicle events firsthand. In some ways I am a bard, a wandering storyteller whose goal is to author only one work, a single volume that records every major event that has ever occurred."

"Well then why have you been sitting here fishing for the past three thousand years?" Eleshka asked pointedly.

Rhennalus chuckled. "Because, young one, one can see with far more than just their eyes. Ysgard has provided me with a suitable place to… concentrate."

Elsa had a thousand more questions that she wanted to ask this man, but she forced herself to still them. She set her jaw.

"Rhennalus, I need a way to get from here back to earth. No matter how circuitous, there must be a way."

Rhennalus smiled. "I imagined that you might ask that." He set his teacup back onto its platter and laced his fingers together. "Let us get to work, then."


	28. Interlude - Eleshka

Author's Note:

Normally we take a break from the main story for a short story between each Arc, but I've been very busy as this semester wraps up, so I've decided that it makes the most sense just to give myself a break and focus on school until finals are over. So, it is with many apologies that I inform you, dear reader, that we won't have a short story this Arc, and the next upload for Immortal will be Friday, May 3rd - the start of Arc 9. After that, I haven't decided yet whether I'll go back to Monday uploads or keep them on Friday, but I'll keep you all posted.

Thanks for your patience and good luck to everyone else with the end of their semesters. We'll be back soon.

xxx

Interlude – Eleshka

 _I am, to my knowledge, a member of the only variety of Archmage which has never had more than one representative. I assume that this is because I'm still alive. Over generations, some have asked me why I meddle with the very affairs of the world that I am here to catalog. Why do I put my finger on the scale?_

 _The answer, I suppose, is that I like seeing the little guys win._

 _Rhennalus_

* * *

Ysgard,

The Sea of Stars

March 1st, 1844

Eleshka sat on a rounded stone at the edge of a meadow where Elsa and Rhennalus were working. They had cleared away the grass from a ten-foot ring, where now only packed earth stared back at them, stripped of pebbles and other debris. They knelt on the dirt and painstakingly drew lines upon it with white chalk. In order to get the dirt hard enough to draw on, it had taken Elsa days of freezing it overnight and again once it started to thaw in the morning, and the rituals had taken a similar amount of time to prepare.

The Worldsoul spoke softly in the back of her mind, a constant, friendly presence as always. Eleshka rarely focused on what it was saying to her, but every now and again she would speak to the Worldsoul and ask it to make something grow. Even now, she was channeling energy into a small sapling that had belligerently taken up root a dozen yards from the rest of the nearby tree line. I was really little more than a spindly trunk and two thin branches, but as she funneled magic into it, little leaf-buds began to dot the branches.

"Damn," Elsa said abruptly.

Eleshka glanced upwards and saw Elsa lean back to sit on her haunches, wiping at her forehead and casting her chalk aside. It raised a small plume of dust when it hit the packed earth.

"What's wrong?" She asked, frowning.

Elsa sighed. "Nothing. I just can't draw a straight line to save my life."

She stood up and stretched, flicking her wrist as she walked away from the rune circle. A flurry of ice scoured across the ground behind her. When it passed, the offending line of chalk was gone. Elsa glanced around.

"Where's my sword?" She asked.

Eleshka glanced down and saw the little dagger sitting in the grass beside her. She picked it up gingerly, careful not to keep hold of the freezing thing too long – and then flung it at Elsa. It wasn't a particularly good throw, but Elsa extended her hand, and after a moment its hilt twisted towards her and flew directly into it, humming softly as it did. Elsa furrowed her brow momentarily, and adjusted her grip on the dagger, and it abruptly grew in length, becoming a traditional longsword. She returned to the rune circle and laid it flat against the ground, rubbing her chalk alongside the blade.

Eleshka watched this with interest. "What is that thing?"

"What is what?" Elsa asked, brow furrowed. She glanced over at a parchment scroll unrolled near Rhennalus, which had the template pattern. "My sword?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's my weapon," Elsa replied, moving her sword to a new angle before continuing to draw. "The Protector's blade. It's current name is Rimeheart, but it reforges itself for each new Protector. Under Ashanerat it was called Lightbringer."

"So it's magic, then?"

"I thought that much was clear from the way it could change shape," Elsa said, glancing over. "Or can ordinary things do that here?"

"No, I thought that maybe part of your powers included changing it," Eleshka said. "Do you just do… do you just do, I don't know, ice magic?"

Elsa didn't reply for a few long seconds. Rhennalus stood up and walked several paces back from the rune circle to examine their progress.

"A little to the left, Elsa. These lines must be made perfectly."

Elsa followed his directive. "I'm not entirely sure, Eleshka," Elsa finally replied. "For as long as I can remember having powers, I thought that all I could do was make ice and snow. But around a year ago, I figured out that I could freeze things in midair. I don't mean freeze them with ice; if I did that, they'd just fall to the ground. I mean that they just _stop._ "

Eleshka's curiosity was piqued. She glanced at the ground near herself and picked up a smooth, nearly circular palm-sized stone. She hefted it, and then wound up her arm. Elsa's back was turned. She couldn't possibly have noticed Eleshka pick up the stone.

"Do you have to see it coming?"

"No," Elsa replied.

Eleshka threw the stone at her underhanded, not hard enough to hurt if it _did_ hit her. It sailed upwards to the top of its arc, but then instead of coming down, it _stopped_ in midair. There it hung, suspended in a strange sort of animation. It didn't even wobble. Elsa reached backwards and plucked it out of the air, setting it on the ground and tracing an arc around its edge. Then she tossed it aside into the grass.

Rhennalus's eyes twinkled amusedly. "Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "Elsa has finished with the last of the runes. Now we are ready to begin the ritual at our convenience."

"At our convenience?" Eleshka asked, frowning. "Why not right away? Elsa needs to get back to her people as soon as possible, right?"

Elsa shot a sidelong glance at Rhennalus. She looked nervous, for some reason. The ancient wizard's face took on a kindly, almost-sad expression.

"Elsa is not the only one who must leave, Eleshka."

Eleshka started, and felt a surprising pang of sadness. "You're leaving too, Rhennalus?"

Though until recently she had known him as Diosthes, old man Rhennalus had always been one of the most interesting people in all of Ysgard. She would miss the epic tales that he regaled them with on festival nights. But she supposed that it should come as no surprise that he would leave, too. It sounded as if the world was speeding up around them, and there was little opportunity to be passed over by the changes that were coming.

The Bard Rhennalus smiled. "Actually, I will be the only one to stay."

"What?" Eleshka said, eyes widening. An entirely new feeling sprung up in her stomach, one of sudden excitement and fear. "What do you mean?"

"I have already spoken with your father, Eleshka," Elsa said. "The Sea of Stars is almost entirely under Everdark's control. It will not take them long to figure out that the only place that Ardentum could have brought me was his home. They are coming for Ysgard, even as we speak. It won't be safe for you. For any of you."

"You talked to my dad about this? Why didn't he tell me anything? Why didn't you tell me anything?" Eleshka said, annoyance creeping into her voice. She always hated getting petulant; it made her sound like a child. But that's exactly how they were treating her!

Elsa bit her lower lip. "I told you we should have," she said to Rhennalus.

The old man sighed. "Direct your anger towards me, Eleshka," he said. "I instructed Elsa and your father to keep the information from you because I wanted to spare you the fear. I imagined that the grief from the loss of your brother would be enough hardship for you to bear in this time. But I can see from your reaction that this was wrong-minded of me. Forgive me."

Eleshka was surprised by Rhennalus's full-throated apology. She wasn't used to adults admitting mistakes to her. She looked inside, and realized that he wasn't exactly wrong. Now that she knew the extent of the danger that Ysgard faced, she felt the pit in her gut multiplying rapidly.

"Lost Immortals," Eleshka murmured. "How long do we have?"

"If we want to be as safe as possible, not more than a few days," Elsa said. "When I had to reach the Worldgate through Nahat'Tiemn, it was a three-week journey by foot. With enough horses or perhaps a wizard with the right abilities, the journey could surely be made much faster. It's already been a week."

Eleshka started to panic. In her mind's eye, legions of darkly armored soldiers marched through an arcane portal down the streets of their little village, putting torches to the buildings and slaughtering young children like pigs in the street.

"Where will we go?" She asked in a whisper.

Elsa shrugged. "That's for each of you to decide."

Rhennalus chimed in, explaining. "This ritual is very old, one that has not been performed since long before even the time of Celestus. To my knowledge, I am the only human to have ever known the arcane requirements. It was taught to me in the first age by an Illinir named Gimlor the Great, and it will take us to a realm of doors."

"Doors?" Eleshka echoed.

"Spiritual doors, if not physical ones," Rhennalus said. "Elsa has already been to this place once before, when she used the Worldgate. It is a space between spaces, a place where someone who knows where they need to go can find the path that will take them there."

"We will go to Arborea," Vargo Pelerine's voice came from behind Eleshka. She turned to see her father approaching through the meadow behind her. He still wore black, but now his face was set with a grim resolve that hadn't been there a week before. "It is still far from the heart of the Sea, so perhaps Everdark will not yet be lord and master of the Great Forest. We might be able to find allies there, as well."

"What?" Eleshka said, standing up. She was aware that she was asking too many questions, starting to sound like a petulant child, but she was very worried.

"There is a being who lives in this demiplane," Rhennalus said. "When we perform the ritual, you will enter the demiplane and speak to this being. Together you will determine where you must go."

"Together? We can't just tell this thing that we want to go to Arborea?" Eleshka asked.

"Well, you _can_ ," Elsa said. "When I spoke to this being, it wanted me to convince it that I hadn't given up fighting before it sent me back into the world."

"Huh," Eleshka said, not sure what else to say. The Sea of Stars seemed a lot larger than it had just a few days before. She turned to her father. "So what if we don't end up in the same place? What if that… that _thing_ in the demiplane doesn't want me to go to Arborea?"

"Hush, child," Vargo said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The spirits of the world would not send a child to any place but the safest."

Eleshka staved off a pout. "I'm _not_ a child anymore, dad."

"How old _are_ you?" Elsa said, voice growing inquisitive. "I wondered that about Ardentum, as well."

Vargo's face fell. "Ardentum was to turn nineteen next month. Eleshka is three years younger than him."

Elsa nodded, her face unreadable. She glanced down.

"Your father is right. The being in this demiplane seemed benevolent. It will not endanger you, Eleshka."

Eleshka glanced back at her father. "Do the villagers know? Have we started getting ready to leave?"

Vargo's jaw set, grimly. "No. But we begin tonight."

xxx

Three days later, Eleshka stood beside Elsa at the edge of the rune-circle, surrounded by what remained of their little village in Ysgard. A hundred villagers, a pair of horses and a half-dozen cows, and a herd of sheep. Packs filled to bursting with anything worth taking. Pots and pans, spoons and silver heirlooms. Books, for those who owned them. Eleshka felt something momentous that she couldn't quite describe, a swelling in her chest that marked everything sweet and sorrowful about beginning something new.

A bitter wind blew from the east, swaying the tall grasses and the wildflowers in the meadow around them. Vargo stepped forwards from the crowd and turned to address them all, still wearing a band of black around his upper arm.

"People of Ysgard," he said, his voice carrying over the whistling wind. "Today is not a dark day. We may fear leaving our homes and our lives behind, but I promise to you that it is not an ending that we confront.

"I will not lie to you," Vargo said. "The enemy that we run from is terribly powerful, and ultimately evil. If given the opportunity they will unflinchingly destroy everything that we stand for and hold dear. But we do not intend to give them the fight that they so desire. It is not the responsibility of the farmer to be a fighter. We have benefited much from our distance fro the core, but we knew from the beginning of this war that it would only be a matter of time before our enemy's appetite for destruction could not be sated with planes near the City of Brass."

"If we're just running away, won't Everdark's armies just find us in Arborea eventually?" A voice called out from the crowd. "Eventually we won't _have_ anywhere to run!"

"I'm glad that you voiced this doubt," Vargo said, though the confidence in his voice wavered slightly. "That is where our friend Elsa the Protector comes in. She and her people are fighting bravely against the darkness, and they are far more capable than we. She will be returning to champion her people again in this fight, and it is under her guidance that Everdark will be defeated. It is true that we cannot run forever, but it is also true that Everdark will not last forever."

Vargo pointed towards Elsa, who shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Gaze upon the warrior who will light the path to peace."

All eyes turned to face Elsa, and Eleshka felt the secondhand presence of dozens of eyes. She glanced sideways towards Elsa, who seemed to gulp before she nodded.

"I will do my duty," she said.

Eleshka was startled by how remarkably frail she seemed in that moment. As if she was not comfortable being responsible for the lives of so many. Eleshka wondered how she managed

Vargo nodded. "If we are ready, then, I think that it is time to begin."

Rhennalus stepped into the rune-circle now, carrying with him a large metal censer. He set it down in the center of the cleared space, where the chalk lines formed concentric rings around a circle just the right size to hold the bronze censer. The incense was already lit, and multicolored trails of smoke rose from it to twist in the wind. Rhennalus cleared his throat, and then began to speak in a strange tongue that Eleshka didn't recognize.

She gulped, feeling frightened, and unconsciously reached out to grasp Elsa's hand. The human glanced down and smiled slightly. She squeezed Eleshka's hand reassuringly.

"I'm scared," Eleshka whispered.

"I know," Elsa replied. "It's okay to be afraid. This will all be over before you know it."  
"What was it like? Speaking to… to whatever it is, in there?"

Elsa's smile broadened. "Well, to be honest, I thought I was dead, so it was… very disconcerting. I thought I was projecting my own unconscious, actually. Based on the way that Rhennalus talked about it, I don't think that it's always like that."

Eleshka nodded, and she fell silent, listening to the strange cadence of Rhennalus's voice. She didn't know how long the incantation would last. Just as she began to wonder whether she should ask Elsa, he abruptly fell silent. The only noise again became the whistling of the wind.

"Go now, my friends," Rhennalus said, his voice familiar again. "Go swiftly like the wind, and may the Lost Immortals guide your journey."

Eleshka didn't like that Rhennalus would remain behind. She couldn't fathom why he would think that such a thing was a good idea; he said that eventually Everdark would find him no matter where he was. He said that it was time for him to reconcile with his fate, whatever that meant. She glanced around the circle, expecting to see people start disappearing. But several seconds passed, and nothing changed. She started to wonder if he'd said the incantations correctly.

Slowly, Elsa extricated her hand from Eleshka's grasp, leaving Eleshka feeling cold. She turned towards her and saw a wistful smile on the Protector's face.

"I am sorry that we met under such sorrowful circumstances, Eleshka," Elsa said softly. "And I thank your family, for what it has given up for me. I'm going to miss you."

The gravity of the fact that Elsa was leaving too hit Eleshka fully. She felt that they would be very exposed and unprotected at Arborea without her. Something about Elsa radiated a cool control of every situation, even when the odds seemed stacked against her. It made Eleshka feel like things were going to work out for the best, no matter how bad they were now.

"I'm going to miss you, too."

Eleshka realized that she felt something strange. It was in her chest, similar to the way that she felt magic when she reached inside to use it, but more foreign. A great wealth of power, that she could access if only she reached out to touch it.

"Maybe when there's finally peace, you could come visit us in Arborea," Eleshka said, hating that she sounded like a desperate child.

Elsa's eyes said something surprising to her then, expressing something complex and pain-laden. She wasn't going to survive, however this ended. She seemed to know that.

 _Maybe_ , her lips moved, but Eleshka didn't hear her voice. Her surroundings were melting away, the people dissolving into shapeless light. One by one they became indistinct, and then there was nothing.

xxx

 _Comfort._

Eleshka could sense only comfort. It was incredibly satisfying, like waking up under a pile of warm blankets on a cold winter morning. She didn't want anything to change, and for an indiscernible time, nothing did.

Then a worm of doubt crept into her mind.

 _You can't just stay here forever, you know._

It was several moments before she realized that it was not her own subconscious, but something else entirely. Whatever being it was that called this demiplane home.

"What if I want to?" She asked.

 _You don't want to,_ it replied, and she knew that it was right.

"But it's dangerous out there."

 _Not at Arborea. Not yet._

"But eventually."

 _Danger doesn't seem to scare you, Eleshka. I don't think that's what this is about._

"How do you know that? How do you know anything about me? Are you in my head?" Despite Eleshka's questions, she wasn't actually very scared. Something about the presence of this being was strangely soothing.

 _More or less, I suppose,_ the voice said, and Eleshka received the distinct impression of a shrug. _Not really. I'm just good at reading people._

"Are you… are you me?" She asked, tentatively.

 _Many ask the same question as you, Eleshka. I can't answer it._

"Why not?"

 _That's for each of you to decide,_ the voice said, using the same words that Elsa did the other day.

"What does that even mean?" She asked. "I feel like you're trying to mess with me."

She sensed amusement.

 _Much as I like the sound of that, I'm not,_ it said. _It's really true. I'm at least partly your subconscious, but exactly how much depends from person to person. It's the amount that I'm not allowed to divulge._

"Why not?" Eleshka said, not bothering to ask exactly _why_ this being couldn't tell her.

 _Because it's important that I leave you wondering whether it was you who came up with these ideas._

"What ideas?"

 _You don't want to go to Arborea._

"Of course I don't. Nobody wants to abandon the place they've called home their entire life."

 _But it's more than that._

Was it?

"I… I don't like the idea of running," Eleshka said.

 _That's right. And you don't want to never see Elsa again._

"Yes," Eleshka said, nodding.

 _Why is that? Why have you gotten so attached to this person that you just met two weeks ago?_

"I… I don't know," she said.

 _Yes, you do._

"Do I?" She asked. "Aren't all emotions sort of inexplicable?"

 _I'm never wrong, kid,_ the voice said.

She frowned, and then closed her eyes, though it didn't really do anything in this formless world. She started to concentrate, trying to focus on _why_ she cared about Elsa.

"She brought Ardentum back to us," Eleshka said. "I mean, he wasn't… she did her best. And she cried about him, too. She really cared."

 _That's part of it._

"She also seems… she seems like she knows what's going on. I wish I was like her. I wish I wasn't afraid, all of the time. I wish that I could command a situation like her."

 _You're not as different as you think, Eleshka. She used to be afraid, just like you._

"I don't know if I can change that much," Eleshka said.

 _You seem to want to try._

"I…" Eleshka thought about her father, arriving at Arborea with no family left. A horrible guilt swelled up in her chest. "No, I can't. I can't. Besides, I'd be throwing my life away, just like Ardentum."  
Bitterness had seeped into her voice, and she felt stinging at her eyes. She tried to reach up to wipe at them, but realized for the first time that she couldn't move.

 _It's alright to miss him, Eleshka. But he is not gone. Your brother will be with you, always._

She started to cry. "First mom, and then him. What did I do to get them taken away from me? I wasn't ready."

 _Rarely do we ever get what we want, Eleshka. The fates have been cruel to you like many others in this bleak time. It is always harder, it seems, for things to be given, than taken away. Not all of us are capable of pushing through these periods of terrible loss._

 _But you are._

Eleshka sniffled. "I'm not a fighter. I can't – I can't kill people."

 _That's okay. The world needs more love than hate anyway._

Eleshka felt something changing deep inside of her.

"You're not going to take me to Arborea, are you?" She asked nervously.

 _No,_ the voice said. _No, it looks like you've already decided on something different. Welcome to the good guys, Eleshka._

xxx

Eleshka's awareness returned all at once, a sudden burst of sensation that sent her collapsing to her knees, gasping for air. She looked wildly around, and saw that she was kneeling in the grass of a painstakingly manicured garden. Soft rain pattered down around her, bringing new life to the soil. She was in the shadow of a mighty palace, beautiful and intimidating in the middle distance.

Eleshka collapsed backwards and sat with both of her hands on the grass, catching her breath. Unconsciously, she reached out for the Worldsoul, seeking its familiar comfort, but she was surprised to find something totally alien waiting in the heart of the world. She gasped and recoiled as if she'd been struck.

She wasn't in the Sea of Stars anymore. She was gone. She'd left everything behind for this.

Her father was going to be waiting for her for a very long time.

"Eleshka?" A familiar voice said. She glanced over her shoulder, and she saw Elsa dashing over to her, concern etched into her face. "Eleshka, what are you doing here?"

Too overwhelmed with shock and emotion to speak, she threw her arms around Elsa and started to cry.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Five

Arc Nine

Light

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

 _The time has finally come when I can rest._

* * *

The Imperial Palace,

Versailles

March 5th, 1844

"The last of our troops have been recalled from Arendelle, your majesty. As of an hour ago, all of our wargates in a fifty-mile radius of the city have been permanently deactivated. Destroyed, that is. The city is… the city is lost." The general stared down at the place one of his hands was lain against the table, unwilling to meet the empress's gaze as he told her of the fate of her home. "There have been no more reported casualties, however. We can take solace in that much, at least."

"The news from Morocco is not much better," General Uzana said. "We received reinforcements on schedule, but in order to adequately defend the city, we're going to need more than we have. And I'm afraid that from what I've been hearing from the rest of the generals, that's not going to be an easy order to fill."

"They still haven't given us any indication that they're open to parley?" Elsa asked from where she leaned against the wall of the war room.

"None at all, master wizard," Uzana said. "I know some of these warlords. I was never friends with any of them, but I had hoped that they would at least let me hold audience with them. But they fight with a strange zealotry that they never did before. They are committed to the destruction of everything that we have."

Elsa nodded solemnly, and glanced towards Anna. Her sister was gravely silent, hands clasped together before her lips. Elsa felt a pang of guilt. Anna had gotten quieter recently, and Elsa hadn't noticed it until it had already happened. The world was taking the light out of her sister's eyes, and there wasn't a damn thing Elsa could do about it.

"Perhaps it is time we give thought to evacuation," Anna said softly.

Uzana stiffened, but did not immediately reply. Elsa did not know much about general Uzana other than that she was remarkably competent, and equally prideful. She likely didn't appreciate the idea that they admit defeat in North Africa, nor did she like the idea of abandoning her home.

"Forgive me, your majesty, if I prefer to try to find another solution, for now. It is the only home I have ever known, and it would wound me gravely to see it burned by our enemy."

"You know that I can't give you any more troops," Anna said.

"Yes, your majesty," Uzana said, lowering her head.

Anna appeared conflicted. Elsa figured that she wanted to take control of the situation and demand that the Moroccans evacuate to safer territory. It would save lives. But she also wondered whether they had been retreating too quickly. They couldn't keep running from a fight forever, and their occupied land had already shrunk significantly since the second wave of the invasion began. The refugee camp around Paris was now swollen beyond sustainability, and another one established in Corona was growing quickly. With so many mouths, and so little to go around, fears of starvation had begun to spread through the empire. The interior ministers warned that, unless something changed, the Unified Empire would need to begin rationing food to survive the next winter.

"Very well," Anna said at last. "I trust your judgment on the matter, Uzana. But promise me that you will begin evacuations immediately if the tribesmen receive any reinforcement from Everdark."

Uzana nodded. "Very well, your majesty."

Anna inclined her head, dismissing the young woman. Then she turned her gaze down the long table set in the room and fixed it on Eleshka Pelerine, who sat at the end. For some reason, Elsa felt suddenly defensive, and stepped away from the wall, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Now I come to you," Anna said contemplatively. "My sister tells me that you are the sister of a wizard who was a close associate of Everdark itself, until moments before his death. You were supposed to remain in the Sea of Stars with the rest of your people, but due to a quirk of fate, you end up here, with us. You have the appearance of a child, but I have no way to verify that you are because your kind can alter your appearance as you see fit. You'll excuse me if I am… hesitant to trust you, Eleshka Pelerine."

Elsa was surprised. Though Anna's voice was not harsh – it rarely ever was – her words were piercing, in no small part because they were accurate. Elsa wondered briefly if she'd somehow been fooled by this girl. What if she _was_ a spy for Everdark?

"I have no one to vouch for me except Elsa," Eleshka said, voice quavering slightly. "But I swear to you, I am not a danger to you or your own."

Anna turned her gaze to Elsa, and met her sister's eyes. Elsa felt that same guilt return. Those eyes were weary, and haunted. Anna sighed, and nodded, turning back to Eleshka.

"I have always considered Elsa to be an excellent judge of character. She was the first to see through Hans's ruse, but also the first to recognize that he had changed. Importantly, she isn't someone who trusts other people easily, either. The fact that she tells me she trusts you is good enough for me. For now."

Eleshka's shoulders sagged, the tension draining out of them. "Thank you, your majesty."

"That said, if you give me reason to doubt your loyalty, do not think that your young age will stop me from exiling you. I will not see our kingdom brought to its knees by a traitor from within again."

"Anna, Eleshka isn't Namar Sadden," Elsa said, laughing nervously at her sister's intensity. "She's not a danger to anyone."

Anna nodded crisply. "So I suspect as well. But I just want to make myself clear. You may both leave, if you don't have anything else for me."

"We hope you'll make it to dinner, Anna," Elsa said as she motioned for Eleshka to stand. "Odette and I are going to that little corner shop on Le Marais."

Anna smiled sadly. "I should probably stay in tonight. I haven't gotten to spend much time at all with Michael this week."

Elsa winced at her own foolishness. "That's right. That's right. Sorry Anna. Still getting used to you being a mother."

"You and me both," Anna replied.

xxx

Calypso Vay settled down on the couch in Anna's personal quarters, rocking Michael in one arm as she fed him from a bottle with the other. She extended a bare foot to where an upright tack sat on the table next to a circular disk made of a dark, smooth stone. She tapped her big toe against the tack, feeling a small prick, and then wiped it against the cool disk. As she withdrew her foot, the chamber grew very dark and cold. She glanced down at Michael, but he was swaddled in a blanket and wore a woolen cap.

"For your sake, I hope that this is more worth my time than your last communication," Everdark said.

Calypso felt a small, involuntary surge of fear, but she forced it down. Only cowards were intimidated by this… creature. She had proven her importance. Even if it hadn't been satisfied with the intelligence that she'd been able to gather so far.

 _It seems that you have nothing to tell me that my spies haven't already,_ it had said to her, voice laden with cruelty. _Perhaps it was a mistake entrusting you with such an important task, Vay._

"I assure you," Calypso said, "that my counsel will be more valuable to you this time, master. The Protector has returned. And she has brought with her a young girl from the Sea of Stars. She seems to consider her some sort of ward."

"What?" Everdark exclaimed, its voice humming with sudden anger. "How could she have crossed the temporal line so quickly? It's impossible!"

"I assure you, master, that she _is_ here. So it seems that you must expand the horizons of what you consider to be possible."

Everdark did not respond for several seconds. Its twisting, shadowy form was flecked with glints of red that bespoke its rage. Calypso was grateful not to be in the presence of the dark god at the moment. Michael squirmed suddenly, gurgling disquietedly.

"This is… most disconcerting," Everdark eventually said. "I consider my self well-versed by now in the capabilities of the Protector, and this is not something that I had anticipated her capable of. Perhaps it is the other that you mentioned. A girl, you say?"

"Yes," she said. "Called Eleshka Pelerine. A child, really. She didn't seem threatening. But she is the brother of another wizard, one who supposedly used to work for you."

"Yes," Everdark said. "Pelerine would make her the sister of the late wizard Ardentum. He died foolishly betraying me the same day that Elsa was banished to the Sea of Stars. So now I know that he took her to Ysgard. Perhaps I should have destroyed that insignificant village when I conscripted him. Families have proven troublesome to me. What does she do?"

"I don't know, master," Calypso replied. "She claimed to be of no consequence."

"Does she trust you?" Everdark asked, voice suddenly a harsh whisper.

"Of course they do," Calypso said immediately. "My impersonation is flawless."

"I hope that you're sure of that," Everdark said. "I have invested much in you, Vay. If you fail me, they will kill you. And if they do not, I will be the one to do it myself."

Calypso suppressed a shudder and stood, walking across the sitting room and into the bedroom, where she laid Michael down in his cradle. She felt an urge to ensure that her conversation with Everdark didn't end on this note.

"I have more to give you," she said, returning to the chamber where the dark god's presence still hung above the table. "I met with the generals earlier. I can give you accurate information about troop locations and planned movements. I know the entire strategy that they will pursue in Morocco, and in Italy. You will be able to counter their every step, master."

"I should certainly hope that we can," Everdark said. "If you were unable to provide me with anything more than my spies could already tell me, then I would have considered this entire venture an abject failure."

 _You're not easy to please, are you?_ Calypso thought.

"In time, I will be able to learn more, master," she said. "This is just the beginning."

xxx

Hans's face remained impassive as the hulking man pulled the rope tight against his skin, burning his arms.

"The master will be very pleased to hear that we've managed to capture such a powerful wizard, my liege," one of the sniveling underlings behind Lord Joven said. "I'm sure that you will be rewarded quite handsomely."

"Quiet, you fool," Lord Joven said, waving a hand dismissively as the man finished binding Hans and stepped away from the chair. The room was dimly lit from only a single candle on a table at the far wall, and the three men standing before Hans were cloaked in shadow. Lord Joven drew a knife from within his cloak, and the blade gleamed briefly in the light. He approached Hans and lifted his chin on the edge. "I am distinctly uncomfortable that my men were able to take you with such ease. I have heard tale of your powers, wizard. You are… a killer."

Hans shrugged. "I dunno, I guess you guys got lucky. It's bound to happen at some point."

Lord Joven grunted, and twisted the knife so that the point bit slightly into Hans's flesh.

"I am not a fool, wizard. I am well aware that you will have some plan to be rescued. No doubt you are trying to discern our plans by being captured. You think that we will be naïve enough to allow you to learn anything? Bah."

Hans kept his face impassive. The knife didn't actually hurt much, really. Lord Joven didn't seem to realize that the cheek wasn't exactly a pain center.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about trying to keep things from me. I've already learned everything I need to."

"What?" Joven said incredulously.

"You see, that barrel of gunpowder in the corner of this room? Well, this room is actually rather damp, so it doesn't take a genius to figure out that it hasn't been here long. You're planning to move it somewhere else, which means it's just arrived. You had me blindfolded as we approached this room, but didn't bother trying to hide the fact that one of your foremen was negotiating with the arms dealer himself. Perhaps you thought that I don't know Italian. You'd be right about that, but I _do_ speak Spanish, and they're close enough that I could pick some words out. You're being dealt to by the Bianchi family. Which I must say I found rather surprising – I thought they could be trusted more. Nonetheless, you've given me the identity of your arms dealers, but that isn't all."

Lord Joven had already paled considerably, and he actually took a step backwards now, casting an uncertain glance at his cronies.

"I was also interested in learning whether there were any wizards among your ranks. Sometimes Everdark prefers to let its splinter organizations continue to operate more or less _adjacent_ to its armies, and sometimes it brings them into the fold. It seems like you folks haven't been deemed 'important' enough, yet. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

"How could you possibly have decided that we have no magic users with us?" One of Joven's underlings blurted out.

"Because they'd be in the room," Hans said, making his arms incorporeal and slipping them through the rope that bound them to the back of his chair. He left them there for now as he continued to speak. "You don't just bring your inbred stepsons with you to interrogate a man as dangerous as I am."

Joven's face colored with rage. "You insolent fool! None of this knowledge will help you in the grave!"

He rushed forwards, plunging his knife at Hans's chest.

Hans tipped his chair backwards and fell _through_ it, landing on the floor and kicking it upwards into the man's face. The flimsy chair shattered against him and he collapsed to the ground, howling. Hans sprung to his feet and ducked underneath the clumsy, clobbering fist of the burly man who had tied him up and rammed his shoulder into the man's chest. The last had drawn a knife, and he too stabbed at Hans, but before he could reach Hans, Kariena Tae teleported through the ceiling into the room and fell atop his shoulders, twisting them both to the ground. His blade skittered into the corner.

Kariena stood and Hans pressed his back to hers as they whirled through the chamber, trading blows with Lord Joven's cronies.

"It's about time you showed up," Hans said. "They cut my cheek."

Kariena twisted around him and threw glittering dust into one the man's eyes as he approached them. He cried out and reached for his face, and Hans landed three punches to his gut in succession. Kariena cartwheeled across the ground and kicked him in the jaw, eliciting a sharp _crack_ and sending him backwards into the wooden wall.

"Did they? I sure hope it doesn't scar," Kariena said, stomping on Lord Joven's hand as he crawled towards the corner for the knife. He screamed piteously. "But now seems like a good time to remind you that you were the drama queen who wanted to do it like this in the first place. I just wanted to raid the hideout."

"But then you never would have gotten to make such an entrance," he said, hammering the big man a few more times until he slumped back to the ground and gave up. "Tell me you're not having fun."

Kariena rolled her eyes, but there was an unmistakable grin on her face as she turned back to him. "Whatever. We need to get out of here before Joven's people start to wonder what all the commotion was about. You get it?"

"The information?" Hans replied. "Yeah. No wizards, the Bianchi brothers."

Kariena wrinkled her nose as she picked her way across the room and flipped Lord Joven over where he lay on the ground. He tried to struggle against her momentarily, but then she punched him in the face. She rifled around in his pockets and eventually came out with a letter.

"This might be important too, whatever it is."

Hans opened the room's door and saw a half-dozen men gathered at the end of the hallway, leveling rifles at them. He closed the door and turned to Kariena.

"Get on the floor," he said calmly, lowering himself to the ground beside the doorway and covering his head.

Kariena smirked and jumped upwards, teleporting back into the room above them. He heard a shout of surprise from the chamber before the men in the hallway began shooting.

The doorframe exploded inwards, showering him with splinters. His arm closest to the door was slashed painfully, and he gritted his teeth and covered his ears. The onslaught continued for several seconds, some of the bullets cracking the wood alarmingly close to where he was huddled. Lord Joven and both of his lackies were killed by the volley in heartbeats, and when the shooting stopped, they oozed blood onto the floor.

 _Maybe Joven wasn't the one in charge around here,_ Hans thought.

"Is he dead?" He heard one of the men in the hallway say.

"I doubt it," one of them replied. "These fuckers have a way of – _aaggh!"_

He heard a half-dozen shouts and the flashing of a knife, and a moment later Kareina called to him, "Jesus, Hans, you're falling behind the curve here. That's twice now I've saved your ass today."

Hans grunted noncommittally as he dragged himself to his feet and started picking wood splinters out of his side.

"It's not fair," he said, stepping into the hallway. "We didn't bring guns. Why do they get to have guns?"

Kariena shrugged. "Now come on, honestly. There's a lot more where these came from. Besides, it sounds like we're going to need to pay some arms dealers a visit."


	30. Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

 _This burden that I have borne is finally lifted._

* * *

Rome,

Italy

March 7th, 1844

Rain lashed at the candlelit windows of a dingy building above a quiet forge. A man with silver hair knelt before a fireplace with a string of beads draped around his fingers, murmuring quietly to himself.

"You must protect me, master. They are coming for me. Soon, they will be here, and I fear that my sons will not be able to defend me. But have I not proven my devotion? Will you not grant me your divine blessings?"

 _Perhaps. We will have to see._

Giuseppe Bianchi heard a knock at the door, and he quieted. He could tell that it was Lorenzo; Mattia never bothered knocking.

"Come in, my son."

The door opened and the boy – the young man, really – walked in. Giuseppe stood up, groaning as his weary joints complained, and walked over to sit beside his son on the room's sofa. They stared together into the crackling flames in silence for several long moments before Lorenzo spoke.

"Father, I am afraid."

 _He is weak, also. But he is devoted. More devoted than you, Giuseppe. Remember that there is always something more that a father can learn from his son._

Wise words from the master tonight.

"As you should be, my son. Before the night is out it is possible that at least one of us will be dead. We have made powerful, uncompromising enemies."

"But why, father?" Lorenzo asked. He still had a boyish idealism that Giuseppe adored; it reminded him of times before their mother was gone. "Why must there be such evil in the world? Why must there be those who seek to bring chaos and death?"

His hands were clasped in his lap, but they were trembling. Giuseppe reached over and placed one of his on top of his son's.

"The master tests the will of the worthy, my son. How else will it know if we are deserving of the afterlife?"

"I just do not understand why the trials that we face must be so much more difficult than those anyone else does," Lorenzo said. He could be so angry sometimes. "It is a grave injustice."

"Do not call the will of the master injustice, Lorenzo," Giuseppe said, slightly fearfully. "What it wills is by definition what is right. There is no other truth. But all the same, we do not have to simply accept that we will be murdered by these infidels. It is not just our self-preserving duty, but also our holy obligation, to fight them."

"Could we beat them?" Lorenzo asked, growing excited. "I'll go get guns. Lots of them. We have enough to outfit a small army just in the showroom below."

Giuseppe smiled, humoring the boy. "Perhaps we can, my son. Where is your brother?"

Lorenzo's excitement tapered. "Mattia left, earlier. He said that he needed to speak with one of our clients. Lord Joven, I believe. He isn't back yet, I don't think. That's a problem."

That was a problem. Giuseppe had never been a good shot, and Lorenzo was nervous, bound to be reckless. Mattia had always been the steadiest shooter among them. The boy had an easy comfort with all types of arms.

"No matter, my son. Just go. Ensure that we are defended."

Lorenzo stood and made for the door, but before he could reach it, it burst inwards. A body fell into the room and hit the ground with a wet thud, head lolling sideways to reveal Mattia's lifeless face, beaten and bloody. A tall, muscular man stepped into the room over Mattia's corpse and crossed his arms as he considered Giuseppe and Lorenzo.

 _Your firstborn child, dead at the hands of these monsters._

"You bastard!" Giuseppe screamed, instant, blinding fury taking away his reason. He leapt from the sofa and lifted the candlestick, dashing across the room to swing it at the blasted man. "You killed my son!"

The man drew a sword from his waist and brought his arm about almost lazily. Lorenzo cried out with shock, and Giuseppe felt something strange, as if a sudden weight had been pulled off of him. There was a dull thud, and he became unbalanced, slipping to the side and collapsing to the ground beside the wizard. Giuseppe glanced to the side and saw that his arm was missing, and blood was beginning to gush down the side of his shirt. Strangely, Giuseppe did not feel any pain.

"I didn't, actually," the man said. "My companion and I found his body in a gutter on the way back here. I'd guess that the people you're working for decided that he'd expired his usefulness. Still, I figure that losing an arm over serving Everdark is a fair price to pay."

 _They speak lies. Do not listen to them._

All at once, the pain hit, and Giuseppe fought back tears as he crawled to his knees and clutched at his stump of an arm. Lorenzo appeared by his side, spluttering as he pressed a blanket drawn from the back of the sofa to his father's wound.

"I _hate_ you," Lorenzo turned and screamed at the wizard. The man just shrugged.

"That's… not much of a concern to me, believe it or not," he said. "Of course, what does concern me is your business of doing business with our enemies. We look on that rather unkindly. My name is Hans, by the way. I'm rather displeased to be in the position of meeting you, but here we are."

Hans walked across the room and sat down on the couch, no longer facing them.

"Everdark has taken the entire southern part of this country. We are rapidly approaching a situation in which it controls _all_ of Italy, and my companion and I are doing our best to make sure that doesn't happen. You see, we don't exactly have soldiers to spare at the moment, so the duty falls to us."

 _This man is very dangerous. He has been… a particularly sharp thorn in my side for quite a long time. It is unfortunate that he is here tonight._

Lorenzo slowly stood, glaring at the back of the man's head. Giuseppe realized that he was about to do something foolish, and he moaned softly. He often feared that one day the master would urge his son to do something foolhardy. Sometimes the voice told him to do things that simply weren't reasonable, and while he was able to resist the urge, he wasn't sure that the same could be said for his idealistic son. Sure enough, Lorenzo reached down and slid a knife from his boot, beginning to pad towards the wizard from behind.

"Our demands are not negotiable, but I'm confident that you'll find them quite fair. You will immediately stop supplying weapons to the armies of Everdark, and you will surrender control of your business to our empire. Furthermore, you will all be extradited to Paris, where you will face judgment for your crimes. Dealing in arms is not a capitally punishable offense, but you will still face _some_ jail time. You'll be able to plead your case, of course."

Lorenzo leapt forwards, silent the whole time, and stabbed at the wizard. There was an arcane burst, something unlike anything Giuseppe had ever seen, and then a young woman stood beside Lorenzo, holding him fast. He cried out in surprise and dropped his knife.

"I wouldn't try anything so stupid when you're on trial, if I were you," she said.

"Kill me, you brazen whore!" Lorenzo screamed, struggling against her grip. "You feculent, dishonorable infidel!"

Hans turned to meet eyes with the witch who had teleported into the room.

"You got him?"

"Of course I do," Kariena said, twisting her body and slamming Lorenzo stomach-first onto the ground. She twisted his arms behind his back, and he howled with pain.

"This one's got quite the incendiary attitude," Hans said, motioning towards Lorenzo. "I assume he doesn't kiss his mother with that mouth?"

"He does not kiss his mother because she is dead," Giuseppe said. "Killed by a street rat, the kind of worthless degenerate that will be purged from the earth by the master's holy reckoning."

"Yeah, about that," Hans said, flipping the desk's chair around and sitting on it. He kicked his feet out and clasped his hands nonchalantly over his stomach. "I assume the 'master' you speak of is Everdark, correct?"

"Only an unholy man would speak that name. It is an insult to the being to think that it could be given a name by mere mortals." Giuseppe's voice was beginning to waver. He thought that he might be dying. He was losing a lot of blood, and starting to panic.

"Well, I happen to have a friend who's _immortal,_ and she tends to call it Everdark, too, so I think that for the time being, we're going to stick with that. In any case, you worship this thing."

"Yes," Giuseppe said, growling through the pain. He thought of begging them to take him to a doctor, but that was cowardly and weak. He would… he would suffer this, if the master meant him to. The pain, he could handle. But the inanity of the questions that this foul man asked…

"How?" Hans asked. "Is there a doctrine? Kariena and I have come across this a few times before among people like you, and we've grown rather curious. None of you have a book of scriptures, that we could find."

"We need no scripture to follow the voice of truth," Giuseppe managed.

"I think he's going under in a few seconds, Hans," Kariena said, brow concerned as she looked at him. Lorenzo struggled ineffectually against her, but she had a strength that belied her small size.

"He's dying!" Lorenzo managed. "You monsters murdered my brother, and now you've done the same to my father! Kill me and be done with it, so that I may be reunited with them and be rewarded for our faith!"

Hans turned his gaze to Lorenzo. "Are you willing to speak a bit more with us about your faith if we ensure that your father receives help?"

"How could you possibly save him now?" Lorenzo said, voice thick with hatred and malice. You've cut off his entire fucking arm! He's lost enough blood to kill any man."

Hans glanced at Kariena.

"By now, you should probably be willing to accept that we're capable of some things that might not be 'ordinary,'" she said.

"Don't do it, my… son…" Giuseppe said, struggling to remain conscious. Even as he did, however, he began to wonder why he was fighting to remain awake. It would be so nice to slip into some place where the pain went away.

Lorenzo stared at his father, and tears began to brim in his eyes. "Alright! Alright, I will tell you! Save my father's life!"

Hans nodded to Kariena, and she hit Lorenzo in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

xxx

Giuseppe awoke in clean linen sheets. He was confused for a few moments, dazzled by the sunlight streaming in through the window and the strange feeling of complete and total painlessness. But why should that be strange? His mind worked slowly, struggling to piece together where he was, and what he was doing, and why it should be confusing to him that he wasn't in excruciating pain.

"Rise and shine, mister," a friendly, feminine voice said in English.

He tried to sit up to see the source of the voice, but when he tried to push himself up, his body reacted strangely, pushing him lopsidedly onto his side. He looked down and saw that he was missing his right arm – it was gone all the way to above his elbow. Instantaneously, everything came crashing back into his brain. He felt agony upon remembering the death of his son Mattia and wished that he had not awoken.

And yet somehow, miraculously, he had not died from loss of blood. His arm had not miraculously regrown, but though it was wrapped in gauze, it no longer caused him any pain. Whatever they had done to him had been remarkable effective.

 _Witchcraft,_ an insidious whisper spoke to him. _Evidence of their unspeakable evil. They cheat the laws of death that bind the rest of us so that they can live longer to enact their horrible plots upon the world._

"They have used witchcraft to heal my arm, haven't they?" He asked the young woman, who was washing a shite cloth in a basin beside his bed.

She wringed it out until it was damp and then folded it once over itself, walking over and placing it against his forehead.

"Yes," she said. "I did, in specific. Hans certainly waited long enough getting you to me. You were barely hanging on there. But your lifeline seems quite strong now."

 _They speak in tongues to mask their evil,_ the voice said upon hearing the unfamiliar word 'lifeline.' It often did that, reacting to things that he heard. It was what had convinced Giuseppe that the master really _was_ God; otherwise, how could it be all-seeing, all-knowing? In any case, the momentary comfort that he had felt around this friendly, seemingly mundane woman evaporated, and he became wary and frightened.

"Where is my son?" He asked. "Where is my Lorenzo?"

"Lorenzo Bianchi is currently being questioned by my wife," the woman said.

 _Sinner,_ the voice whispered.

"About your… faith," she said, walking across the room towards the door. "If you decide that you'd like to talk to us about it as well, then we'd be happy to include you."

Giuseppe eyed her warily. Part of him wanted to be there, to provide support to his son while the infidels browbeat him. But Giuseppe knew that he was weaker than his son, more susceptible to crises of faith. His son was a zealot; he would not falter to these people.

"No, I will not be party to your interrogation," he said.

The woman shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you get hungry, the kitchens are downstairs, on the eastern side of the building. Any servant can point you there."

Giuseppe was surprised. _It's a trap._

"Why do you pretend that I am free to walk this place unattended?" He asked. "I am a prisoner here."

The woman leaned back against the doorframe. "We aren't pretending. You certainly aren't leaving here anytime soon, but we're not inhuman. Go get yourself something to eat and drink, Giuseppe."

 _They lie._

"Aren't you worried that I will spy on you for the master?" He asked warily.

"Not particularly," Odette said. "You're not going to find anything to undermine the Unified Empire in the kitchen. And besides, we're pretty confident that you're not important enough to be speaking directly to Everdark, anyway."

Then she turned and went out.

"This is my chance to do something great for you, master," Giuseppe whispered. "Tell me where to go, and I will observe it for you. I will be your eyes, in this hostile place."

He waited for the voice in his head to reply, but strangely, he heard nothing.

xxx

"Do you know if there are more like you?" Elsa asked, trying to keep her voice calming as she watched the man sitting across the table from her struggle against his bonds.

Once every few seconds, he would abruptly stop moving and tilt his head slightly, almost as if he were suddenly listening to a voice that wasn't there. He reminded her of Wulfric Shaw's estranged student, the man that had tried to murder her in an Arendane mortuary a year and a half earlier. That man's actions had set her on the path that would lead her all the way to this moment, and this time she was keenly aware that if she didn't tread lightly, this man might spontaneously die the same way his predecessor had.

"What do you mean, more like me?" He replied. Elsa was surprised; it was more than he had given her in response to practically anything else so far. "Do you mean, more who have become enlightened? More who have awoken to the truth of God?"

Elsa frowned. "Yeah. Just like that."

"There are more of us than you can ever hope to defeat, infidel," he said, rocking against his bonds again. "We have no temple, for we do not need to hear a sermon to find truth. We have no holy texts, for we already know the words of God by heart. We wear no face, save the face of an everyman, so that you can never pick us out of a crowd. We are unstoppable."

"And do they all hear God's voice, like you?" She asked.

Lorenzo didn't reply, but he stopped again, listening to the voice in his head. When he came back to her, his face was a mask of anger.

"You are impure, as are the rest of your coven of liars. I wish to speak to your sister the empress."

Elsa was surprised. She felt an instinctive protective urge; was he going to try to hurt her? But of course, that was absurd – he was chained to the table, mostly to protect him from himself. He couldn't possibly hurt her unless he was some sort of spellcaster, but if he was, then he would certainly already have used his powers when Hans and Kariena had captured him. There couldn't _really_ be any harm in letting him speak to her, right?

In any case, she'd always been better with people than Elsa, anyway.

"Very well," Elsa said, standing and pushing her chair back into the table, "we will see if she's available. I can't promise you anything, though; she's a busy woman."

"I am prepared to wait," Lorenzo said.

xxx

Giuseppe turned down a narrow, stone corridor, wondering if he'd gotten himself lost. A servant had given him directions towards the kitchen, but they'd seemed to think that he was familiar with the place the way they'd spoken to him. Still, the unmistakable smell of baking bread cloyed at his nose, and he knew that he'd indeed found his way there.

 _Perhaps these people aren't all that bad,_ he found himself thinking, though he regretted it. _My faith is misplaced and weak. I am being tested here, and the master will find my lack of devotion disappointing._

He was broken from his rumination when he realized that a person was standing in his path. He glanced up and saw a young woman with auburn hair standing in front of him, a funny expression on her face. She wore a rich-looking dress, and Giuseppe realized that she wore a simple band of metal around her forehead, mostly concealed by her hair. He felt sudden fear. This was the empress.

"Excuse me," he said, unsure what sort of honorific he should use. He felt a nakedness at the lack of his master's voice. Where was it? Why had the master suddenly forsaken him? Was it that disturbed by his lack of faith? "I was just on my way to the kitchen."

The empress cocked her head slightly, and then smiled at him. "You are one of our new guests, aren't you?"

"A prisoner, yes," he said, refusing to let this woman beguile him. He had already allowed the healer to charm him too much.

"Excellent," she said, and then she flicked her wrist. A knife slid out of her sleeve into her hand, and she rammed the blade into his stomach.

Giuseppe gaped, and he looked down at her hand, now running over with blood. He could not believe his eyes. The master had been right about these people. Behind their veneer of smiles, they were cold, and callous, and evil. She twisted the knife in his gut, and he cried out. Her eyes blazed and she covered his mouth, drawing the knife out and stabbing him again. He screamed against her hand, his muffled cries dying in this lonely corridor. She shoved him, and he stumbled back into the wall and then slid down it to sit roughly on the ground.

The empress drew her knife out of his gut and took her hand off of his mouth; by now he was too overwhelmed with shock and fear to scream. Giuseppe was dying. This time, they weren't going to save him. Their empress was truly an evil woman, and she had taken his life away. She dropped the knife into Giuseppe's lap, and he stared blankly down at the blood-spattered blade. Then she knelt down, and she placed a hand underneath Giuseppe's chin, tilting his head up to meet her eyes.

"Thank you for your devotion," she said in a soft, menacing voice. Her eyes were dark, lightless. "You were very useful to me. Please don't take this personally."

He realized with a creeping horror that these were the words of the master.

"No…" he moaned. "My son…"

"Don't worry about your son," the empress said. "He's always been more devoted than his father."


	31. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 _I have begun to think about the legacy that I leave behind. It strikes me that a time will come when I have long since passed, yet my name still lives on the lips of many._

* * *

Morocco,

North Africa

March 7th, 1844

Uzana Meziane the Third watched as the three large men, surrounded by all manner of attendants and supplicants, entered the audience chamber. The room was large, with a vaulted Byzantine ceiling far overhead, with narrow windows built above the eye level. Set with stained glass, they reflected variegated, crystalline light onto the sturdy wooden table. She kept her chin held high and dared each of the chieftains in turn to meet her steady gaze. These were men of honor and noble blood dating back to days before the white man had first set foot in Africa. They knew in their hearts that their assault on this city would earn them only blood and dust.

The last of them finished coming through the doorway, and one of the palace stewards closed it behind them. There was a resounding boom in the chamber, and for several moments Uzana did not speak, content to rest her hand on the pommel of her ceremonial blade and wait for these men to break the silence themselves.

"Well?" The chief called Telut said, his French inflected heavily with his tribal accent. "I presume that you have brought us here to sue for peace?"

"I would not describe the situation that way," Uzana said. "I have brought you all here to change your minds."

"From the destruction of your gilded kingdom!" The warlord Gambi said, pounding a fist on the table for emphasis. "But you have nothing to give to us! Our tribes have not known cooperation in three lifetimes of men! We are brought together only as we are unified in our opposition to this kingdom you have built from the blood and sweat of our brothers."

Uzana stiffened, and fought to suppress a retort about how none of these warlords had taken a moral stance against slavery until this campaign against Morocco, and indeed until recently several of them had done business in humankind. But she managed to keep her cool. Losing her temper in front of these men would cost her any chance of appealing to their reason.

"Chiefs, I do not believe that the opportunity for a peaceful solution to our conflict has passed, and I should hope that the men my father before me respected so completely would feel the same way. Is there a man among you who could sincerely say that you prefer war to peace?"

She met each of their gazes in turn, challenging them to defy her. It was Gambi who did, he the most brazenly defiant among the chieftains.

"You do not understand that we no longer have any choice in the matter, Meziane. We are beholden to many powers now, beyond those of just our peoples."

Uzana sneered. "Yes, now you all pay homage to a pretender god. What will become of the old ways when your peoples look to such a deceiver for deliverance? You have all long sneered at Morocco for our obeisance to Europe, but how could you claim this to be any different?"

At this, the chief Dormu looked troubled. Uzana knew that when her father had still lived and been king, he had worked with Dormu several times, adjudicating disputes between Moroccan traders and tribal herdsmen to facilitate commerce. Though Dormu was an outwardly violent man, broad of chest and shoulder and painted for war, Uzana believed that he had a peaceful heart.

"It is true that the one they call Everdark does not hold as much respect for our traditional ways of life than I would have hoped," Dormu said, "but at the end of all things, I am nothing but a conduit for the will of my people. At first, I did not believe that they would prefer the teachings of Everdark's priests to the old ways, but by now it has become clear to me that it is the majority faith in my lands. To them, this is holy conquest, general."

Uzana heard this with disbelief. "Surely this corrupt faith cannot have taken the minds of your people so quickly?"

But around the table, the men nodded. Behind them, some of the servants that they had brought along seemed to take affront at the way she had spoken of their faith. One even gasped and whispered a quiet oath.

"As you can see, Meziane," Gambi said, sweeping an arm to indicate the servants behind them, "we bring with us proof. I, for one, have come around to these teachings. Though some of my companions have not yet, they have at least the presence of mind not to disparage belief."

"Yet they should be willing to," Uzana said pleadingly. "A belief only in the sacrosanctity of blood and death is no belief at all."

"Who are you to be the judge of these things, Uzana Meziane?" The only chief who had not yet spoken and the oldest among them, a world-weary man named Bahtervadi. "The very faith practiced by you, and your king, has been at the center of centuries of unrest and violence in the fertile crescent. A man's relationship with his religion is a personal one, and its goal is to make him prepared for whatever comes after this life. Everdark offers them hope, hope of a better place in whatever comes after this world, mantled in ash. Do you think to take it away from them?"

"So long as their hope comes from the slaughter of my people, yes, I intend to," Uzana said, her voice hardening. She was not getting through to them. She got the impression that this conversation had made a wrong turn when it had become about faith, and it was not going to last much longer. "It seems that each of us are inflexible in certain areas that the other cannot tolerate. Perhaps this meeting was a waste of everyone's time."

Gambi abruptly grinned at her. "Perhaps not. We did not come here with the expectation of ending our war with only words, Meziane."

Uzana had the distinct sensation that something dangerous was afoot.

"And I presume that your goal was not simply to admire the décor," she said.

"Not exactly," Gambi replied. "You see, we have not entirely abandoned the old ways yet. Are you familiar with the tradition of the _ibada?_ "

"I am, and I wonder how you seek to invoke it," Uzana said. "None of you have any rightful claim to the rulership of Morocco, and neither do I. Ritual combat between us will serve no one's ends. Besides, even the king does not hold any real power anymore."

"We do not want the city, general," Dormu said. "We want only your army. We will not ransack or pillage, as Everdark has larger goals in mind. Our directive is only to take your army and move on to Europe."

Uzana laughed. "Then you all are more deluded than I could have guessed. Do you think that these troops serve me anymore? I am but one of many generals part of the Unified Empire, and without me they would still serve another."

Gambi raised an eyebrow, but it was Telut who spoke next.

"We are not so sure of that, general. We think it likely that the Moroccan army is loyal to you, and through you, the empire. We do not think that they would follow a white man from Paris."

Uzana wanted to laugh again at this ridiculous idea, but the men across the table from her seemed to be deadly serious.

"You're not joking," she said hollowly.

"I never joke about an ibada, Meziane," Gambi said, his grin displaying a row of brilliantly white teeth.

"Do you have the honor to accept Gambi's challenge, or are you as weak as the white men whose culture you so shamelessly imitate?" Bahtervadi said in a rare display of vitriol. "Surely you can see that it is better to risk one life rather than the many that would surely die in an all-out conflict."

"I see that, and I cannot help but wonder if there is some trick hiding from me," Uzana said suspiciously. "Why would _you_ all be willing to gamble your entire campaign on a single fight? It leads me to believe that Gambi has been granted powers by Everdark."

Gambi chuckled. "Come now, you are clearly making excuses for your weakness. If the dark master had given me strength akin to the wizards that lead your empire, there would be no need for these talks. I would simply crack your neck and be done with it."

Gambi's incendiary words burned at Uzana and made her blood boil, yet still she forced herself to keep an even voice. She shook her head tersely.

"I do not have the authority to make such an arrangement, even if I _were_ to think it a good idea. The king of Morocco is above me, and above him is the empress. I am sorry, chiefs, but you have wasted your time today."

"Very well," Gambi said, rising from his seat and placing both of his hands onto the table. "I suggest that you are prepared to defend the city by the sun's set. And when you hear the cries of the boys of your city as they are hacked to pieces by our men, I hope you think about the repercussions of your weakness, Meziane."

The other warlords did not say another word, but they rose in unison and began to file out of the room. Last was Gambi, who held her gaze for long seconds with a cold, cruel stare. Uzana wanted so badly to hurt him. To destroy this callous, overconfident man. She was sure that she could, too; Uzana had never met a person who could parallel her skill with a kota, the ceremonial blade used during an ibata. She could feel the blood raging in her ears, and before she realized what she was saying, she'd already said it.

"Alright, Gambi. You will have your duel. I hope that you're ready to die."

He only grinned in return.

xxx

Less than thirty minutes later, Uzana stood at the edge of a ring of dirt ten cubits in diameter, adjusting the straps of a leather cuirass. Across the ring, Gambi was rubbing oil onto the muscles of his arms while the same group of servants that he and his fellow chiefs had brought earlier stood behind, eagerly awaiting the spectacle. A crowd of Moroccans had gathered to watch behind Uzana as well; she kept expecting someone representing the king to rush onto the field and command them to stop.

Her rage from earlier had begun to fade, and now a knot was working its way into her stomach. She drew her kota and tested its balance, forcing herself to take deep breaths. Gambi began to pace around his end of the circle, striking up a call-and-response chant with his men. Agreeing to this had been a supremely foolish idea. Uzana was confident in herself, but Gambi was certainly stronger than any man she'd ever fought. And it had been two years now since Uzana had been on a battlefield – no amount of training could truly simulate a fight to the death.

What if she lost?

"Are you both satisfied with your weapons?" Telut said, presiding over the edge of the circle with a grim smile on his face.

"I am," Gambi said, earning a cheer from his crowd. He turned to meet Uzana's eyes and grinned wickedly.

Uzana found that she could not speak, but she nodded.

"Very well, then," Telut said. "Let the ibada begin."

Gambi did not wait. Immediately, he sprinted across the ring, his footsteps kicking up plumes of sand. He roared at her as he swung his knife horizontally at the edge of his reach. Uzana twisted sideways in the same direction that he swung his knife, staying just out of his reach. She jabbed her own blade towards his side, and it bit into the leather of his jerkin. She expected him to dodge backwards, but instead he turned _towards_ her – earning her a deeper cut – and clutched her throat with his open hand.

Uzana had a brief moment to be surprised before Gambi lifted her into the air and slammed her into the ground. He flipped his knife point-down in his other hand and plunged it towards her heart. Uzana caught his knife in the hook of her own and nearly faltered; she was stunned by how strong he was. She got her other hand onto the hilt of her knife and strained every muscle in her body to stay the point of his blade from her heart. Frustrated, Gambi tightened his stranglehold on her neck. Uzana saw stars and felt biting pain where his fingernails dug into her skin.

Frantically, Uzana jammed her knee upwards. It connected with his groin, and Gambi's grip relaxed momentarily. Uzana gasped a breath and rolled sideways, crying out as his knife slashed one of her arms. She drew a fistful of sand and threw it into his face as he came after her, giving her time to struggle back to her feet and put some distance between them. Gambi's onlookers booed her for the shameful breach of conduct, but Uzana shut them out. She could worry about propriety after this was over.

Gambi swore and spat onto the ground, rubbing the grit out of his eyes and then falling into a crouch. Because he had advanced upon her first, the rules held that Uzana should have the next strike, but as she had just broken the rules, she didn't expect him to follow them anymore, either. Surely enough, he charged her again a heartbeat later.

Uzana watched his arms carefully, and when he began to move them to plunge his dagger at her chest, she threw herself to his left, swinging her kota at the edge of her reach. But he was too tall, and she had to dive too far to get out of his way, and her knife met only air. She was unbalanced, and Gambi was upon her instantly, sweeping one of his legs into hers and sending her tumbling back to the dirt. This time, she rolled immediately, and his knife dove into the ground beside her head.

Uzana slashed upwards with her knife, drawing a long but useless cut against his leather cuirass. He tried to grapple her again, but as he reached for her she bit at his outstretched hand. Her teeth closed around one of his fingers and she tasted blood, and then he jerked his hand away from her and she was standing again, spitting blood and flesh onto the ground. Gambi swore violently and dove at her again.

Uzana was astounded by his savagery; no other man she'd fought could sustain this kind of momentum. She swung her kota and caught the edge of his against hers this time, a powerful jolt rippling through her arm and threatening to make her drop it. She grimaced, and Gambi let the blades disengage. She feinted a stumble forwards, and he stepped forwards to headbutt her.

At that moment, Uzana brought her knife upwards, trying to plunge the hook into his chin. The tip caught on the bottom edge of his cuirass, and then with all her strength it was plunging into Gambi's stomach. The hilt of her knife hit the leather of his armor and the crowd gasped audibly. Then Gambi's knife flashed, and Uzana felt it bite into her upper arm. She stumbled backwards as he hacked at her again, and she fell backwards onto the sand, clutching at her bleeding arm. Gambi stood over her, eyes glittering with malice. He started to move, and then collapsed to one knee on the dirt, blood beginning to pool on the ground beneath him as it dripped from the hilt of her knife.

Uzana forced herself to struggle back to her feet, and she put distance between them again. She panted heavily as she watched him kneeling on the ground, clutching at the knife in his abdomen. It was a lethal blow. She'd seen enough of them to know. She just needed to stay away from him until he lost the strength to keep fighting.

Something inside of her had the presence of mind to feel a terrible disgust at the way forty seconds of combat had undone a man as decorated and powerful as Gambi.

He stared at the sand he knelt upon, growing red. Then he turned his gaze towards her. She raised her good arm defensively, partially expecting him to throw the knife. There was… agony, in his face. Pain, and pain of loss.

And in that moment, Uzana felt pity.

"I am sorry that it had to end this way, Gambi," she said raggedly, beginning to feel lightheaded.

She glanced at her arm. It was completely slick with blood, and there was a gash just above her elbow that opened her skin to reveal muscle, and below that, bone. It didn't hurt at all, but she knew that the battle haze would wear away soon.

Gambi continued to clutch at the blade in his belly, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He cried out suddenly, and tore the knife from his gut, doubling over as his intestines threatened to spill onto the dirt. Uzana watched him as one of her own stepped out of the crowd and tied a cloth around the gash in her arm, pulling it so tight that it made her wince. She stepped away from his ministrations, walking across the bloodstained circle and placing a hand on Gambi's shoulder. This world had left him and his men behind. They were relics from another age, being washed away with the tides. She couldn't really blame him for wanting to tear away what Morocco had.

"Your people will give you an honorable burial," she said.

Gambi moved suddenly, standing with startling alacrity and slamming into Uzana, throwing her to the ground. Uzana's eyes widened as she saw the skin beneath his jerkin seamless and unbroken. He grinned at her as he reached down for the koba that she had stabbed him with, and for a moment Uzana was too stunned to move.

 _No,_ she thought hollowly. _It cannot be._

"Now all will see the blessings that Everdark is able to provide to the devout!" Gambi cried out, his tribesmen beginning to chant again with renewed vigor. "The master will grant us the strength to destroy all infidels!"

Uzana scrambled to her feet, but Gambi was after her again, her strength was fading, and she was unarmed. He swung at her carelessly, toying with her as he pushed her to the edge of the ring.

"This fight must stop!" One of the Moroccans yelled. "Warlord Gambi has broken the code!"

But Telut stared on, stony-faced. Uzana had breached the code herself, and it was clear now that this ibada was not an honorable fight. Gambi scored a hit on her shoulder, and she cried out, her blood arcing through the air. She tried to dodge around him and get closer to where the other knife lay discarded on the ground, but she was tired and slow, and Gambi slashed her exposed side, tearing through the leather of her jerkin and biting her flesh. Uzana stumbled, and suddenly he was there, with his hand around her neck. She struggled against his grip as he lifted her off of the ground, eyes murderous.

"For the master!" He bellowed.

The voices of his tribesmen were bold and powerful, crying out their hatred of Uzana's world. She clawed at his arm, but it was too strong. She swung her body upwards and kicked him in the chest, and his grip loosened. Uzana gave a final wrench, and she pulled free from his grasp, collapsing to the ground. She grasped for the fallen knife, her fingers stretching, and she brushed it –

Gambi's knife flashed in the air, and she felt a blinding pain as he hacked through her arm. She stared with disbelief at her severed forearm until Gambi grabbed her and lifted her again. This time, he dropped her onto her knees and knotted a fist through her hair, wrenching her head back.

For a moment, Uzana stared into the horrified faces of the Moroccans watching her. Some were turning to run. She closed her eyes a moment before she felt the blade of the knife bite into her throat.

xxx

Lorenzo looked up as the door opened. A woman with auburn hair braided about her head, almost masking a discreet circlet, stepped into the chamber. Lorenzo was surprised by how young she was. Really, how young all of the people who seemed to be running the Unified Empire were. The world's largest state, run by a bunch of kids younger than he was.

She assessed him for a moment with haunting turquoise eyes before crossing the chamber and sitting on the other side of the table. She clasped her hands before herself, and did not immediately speak. Lorenzo had planned to spit in the face of the empress when he met her, but he found himself strangely unable to do it. He wondered if she had put him under a spell. They all said that she was the mundane one between her and her sister, but Lorenzo didn't buy it. After all, this girl had come from nowhere. Clearly, she _had_ to be special.

 _You… fear her,_ the master said, sounding almost amused.

"No, I don't," Lorenzo said angrily.

The empress didn't seem to be surprised by this; no doubt, the empress's sister had told her of the way he heard voices. Still, she seemed content to watch him silently, her face a mask to him.

"What?" he eventually said, angrily. "Aren't you here to try to plunder my mind?"

The empress turned her head slightly. "Perhaps. If it proves valuable enough to me."

He frowned. A rather odd reply. He forced vitriol into his voice when he spoke next, trying to frighten her.

"What is your game, heathen bitch? Will you not have it out? Or do you prefer to let your horrid gaze have its worst with a man first?"

 _You_ do _fear her. I thought you to have a stronger will._ The master's voice was thick with displeasure. The empress smiled at him.

"Ah, now, we mustn't speak like that to our superiors." She reached back and removed a pin from her hair. She rolled it around in the palm of her hand, considering it.

"What is that? Are you going to try to put me under a spell? It won't work. My faith in the master is unshakeable."

"This," the empress said, holding up the pin, "is an ordinary hairpin. I wore an extra today in case I ended up needing it, and now seems like just the time."

She stood up and began to pace casually around the chamber. Lorenzo's hands were chained to the table, and he had to turn awkwardly to keep her in his view. Once she stood behind his chair, she smiled and placed a hand underneath his chin, forcing his head forwards again with surprising strength. He felt a surge of fear, and then she brought the other hand around, and placed the needle just before his left eye. He began to tremble.

"I knew that I would need to undergo many trials to serve the grace of the master," he found himself babbling, not even consciously speaking, the words just tumbling out. "And I am ready for them all. I am ready to prove my devotion, no matter what it takes –"

"Yeah, yeah," the empress said. "Great. But If you don't mind, I need to know what you've already told my sister."

 _What?_ He thought, the question coming not from the master but from his own surprise.

"Help me to understand the game that she plays, master," he begged. "Please."

But the master was silent.

"Lorenzo," she said, voice soft and menacing. "I don't have all day."

"I told her nothing, and it will be the same with you, foul woman! I am a true and faithful servant of the master!"

His neck wrenched painfully as the empress twisted his face to hers. She stared into his eyes with a hard gaze, and he felt as if she were peeling back the layers of his mind and staring into his soul. He gulped, and began to mumble a swift prayer, the words falling out of his mouth again.

"Good," she said eventually. "I think that you're actually telling the truth."

She reached up and replaced the pin in her hair, and Lorenzo felt a flood of relief. He had no idea why the empress did _not_ want him to have spoken about his faith to the Protector, but he was simply glad to no longer have a needle at his eye.

The empress gazed at him disdainfully, as if he were a gristly piece of meat. Then she nodded once, and swept from the chamber without another word. He slumped back against his chair, feeling as if he had just passed a great trial.

"Yes, I'm done with him now," the empress was saying to one of the soldiers outside the room. "He didn't have anything useful."

"What should we do with him, your majesty?" One of the soldiers asked.

The empress turned back and looked at him once more from across the threshold.

"He cannot be left alive, unfortunately. He could be a great asset to the enemy if he ever manages to escape. Make it quick."

"Wait, no!" Lorenzo yelled, panic flooding his body as the soldiers that had been standing guard at the door stepped into the room. "NO!"

As the men began to undo his chains, Lorenzo begged for forgiveness from the master, but there was no reply.


	32. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 _Some day, there may even be another Protector. It would do them well to learn from my mistakes._

* * *

Athens,

Greece

September 28th, 108 AD

The Mender Hythirion sighed as she lowered herself into a sitting position, pressure blessedly leaving her joints. Her son Tiro would often ask her why she did not simply Mend away the pains of old age, but it didn't work that way. A Mender could only repair bonds that had broken unnaturally; they were powerless against the ravages of time that naturally wore a person's lifeline away. Over fifty years had passed since the first time she had met the young woman seated across from her, hands clasped over a crossed knee – yet this woman looked just the same as she had then.

"Very well," Hythirion said. "Where was it, exactly, that we left off last time? My memory is one of the many things that has begun to fail me these days."

This was the fourth time that she had spoken to the Mender who would succeed her, and the third time recently. Odette had chosen to make contact with Hythirion five decades later in her life after their first meeting; it had been a long time to wait. Of course, Hythirion knew exactly why the girl had done it. During the intervening years, Hythirion had learned many things, and she had spent their last two sessions imparting what she knew to the girl seated across from her.

"We were talking about how we might activate powers in someone," Odette said.

"Ah, yes," Hythirion said, recalling their earlier conversations. She took a sip of spiced wine and was introspective for a moment. "That old thorn."

To her, of course, the problem was old; when Hythirion was a young woman and a new Mender, the gods had told her that she should be able to create bonds in nonmagical people that would give them access to powers – they'd told her that once she mastered her abilities, she'd be able to make wizards. She hadn't been able to figure out how at the time, and off and on for the next five decades she'd occasionally had bursts of inspiration to finally crack the problem. Hythirion would spend the next few days – sometimes weeks – in a manic frenzy, poring over arcane tomes from the royal library and trying to decipher old research notes from wizards dating back to the empire of Celestus.

The problem was, she never got anywhere. As far as she could tell from the records, she was the first Mender; in her daily prayers at the Parthenon she'd spent years asking the gods if there was anyone in history who could teach her, but she'd never received an answer. Eventually, her frenzy would burn out, some other pressing need would come up, and Hythirion would forget about it for another year, or two, or sometimes five. For the last decade, she hadn't thought about it at all. Only when Odette had finally come back to her after all these years had Hythirion started down this path again.

"Since our meeting last week, I've been thinking," Hythirion said. "Nominally about our problem, but I must admit that my thoughts strayed towards the artifact that you've ben using to visit me."

"This?" Odette asked, holding up a spectral pendant. To Odette, it was inky black and substantial, a jet stone set into a filigree of precious metal.

 _What on earth? What are the chances?_

"Exactly that," Hythirion said, heartbeat quickening. "Tell me again where you got it."

"My wife Elsa had an early ancestor who was buried with it," Odette said.

Curious, Hythirion wondered if this 'ancient ancestor' was still alive, or possibly recently deceased. A plan was beginning to hatch in her mind, of traveling to the frozen north to try to see if she recognized this cryptic object when she saw it firsthand.

"When did this ancestor live?" Hythirion asked.

"He died in 969 AD," Odette replied, frowning. "I suppose he isn't such an 'ancient' ancestor to you."

Hythirion snorted. "Nine hundred years till this man lies in the ground and you call him ancient. We are from two different worlds, Odette."

"Even so, we are still closer to each other than my wife and the last Protector," Odette said. "Ashanerat lived nearly four thousand years before even _your_ time."

Hythirion shook her head. "In any case, that dashes my hopes. I had thought I might be able to see this amulet for myself. You say that it is cool to the touch?"

"It once was," Odette said, "But it seems that the past that it was once showing us was a lie. I had a confrontation with an aspect of Everdark that seemed to be possessing the amulet, and once it was banished, the stone has always felt warm to the touch. For what it's worth, to Elsa it was always warm. I'm curious; are magical artifacts commonplace to you?"

Hythirion shrugged. "Certainly not, but at the same time I can gather that they are far less rare in my time than they are in yours. Most of them are antiquities dating back to the kingdom of Celestus, kept by the royal family in reliquaries at holy places. But not all of them are. In fact, many years ago I imbued magic into two jet amulets in order to let the King of Greece and his wife travel to the Sea of Stars and commune with the gods personally."

Odette looked thunderstruck. Hythirion realized that she must look much the same.

"This is yours, then," Odette said, looking down at the medallion.

"Probably, yes," Hythirion said. "It looks like one of the ones I enchanted. I don't expect that there are many similar objects in existence."

"No," Odette replied softly. "No, I doubt that there is."

xxx

Odette's brain seemed sluggish, like she wasn't making connections fast enough to really appreciate what she was being told.

"Wait," she said. "You say that this amulet let the King of Greece travel to the Sea of Stars? How? I've never been able to make an interdimensional portal, but I've tried."

Hythirion nodded. "It took me quite a bit of expertise. Years upon years spent creating more conventional portals before I was capable of this. I could try to teach you, but you may not be ready to learn. Excuse me if that sounds harsh."

"Alright, let's do that, but in a moment, because I have a half-dozen other questions," Odette said. She held up the amulet. "Can this thing still travel between dimensions?"

Hythirion shrugged. "I don't know. Have you ever tried?"

Odette laughed incredulously. "No, because we had no idea that's what you're supposed to do with it. But the magic wouldn't, like, fade over time, would it?"

Hythirion shook her head. "No, it shouldn't have."

"Okay, next question: do other people know how to do this? We've encountered some servants of Everdark that have been able to inexplicably teleport great distances. Are they using something like this?"

Hythirion frowned. "Probably, yes, but they'd have had to learn the enchantment that I placed on those amulets after the fact. As far as I know, I'm the only wizard who has ever lived who can make an artifact that will let someone travel between the planes."

Realization dawned on Odette. _That was why Everdark and its followers had been after the other amulet in that temple in Egypt. They'd gotten the amulet and then reverse-engineered its powers. They'd made their own and given them to important servants of Everdark. That's how Ardentum was able to teleport himself and Elsa to the Sea of Stars._

"What did the King and Queen do with the amulets after their trip?" She asked. "One of them ended up in Egypt, and the other somehow made its way to Elsa's ancestor."

"I believe that they gave them as gifts to the lord and lady of Sicily to seal a treaty about a decade ago. Both of the royal families considered them a holy artifact more than something practical. I doubt the Sicilians have ever used them, if they even know of the amulets' powers."

Odette wondered briefly if she should tell Hythirion to try to track down the amulets again and preserve them for safekeeping. If Everdark's forces hadn't been able to claim one of them in that Egyptian tomb – did it even work that way? Was the fact that the amulets had already been found where they were proof that it was impossible for Hythirion to do anything different? She gave up on the idea. If she tried to tamper with the past, Odette had the distinct suspicion that she would end up doing more harm than good.

"What if _this_ is the way that we're supposed to be able to make people into wizards?" Odette asked excitedly, the idea taking her by storm. "What if we can somehow imbue a magical trait into something that you would wear, and the person with it can use that power?"

Hythirion nodded slowly. "You might be right. At the very least, that's something that I've never tried. But I'm not sure how exactly we would get any magic other than our own into the amulet. Perhaps we can only make wizards able to do the same things as us?"

Odette tapped at her chin, but a solution didn't immediately come to her. "Well, it's a lead, at the very least. I'll give it a shot on my own, and I'm also going to check if your amulet can still take me to the Sea of Stars. I think that could prove very useful to us, if it still works."

Hythirion nodded. "Very well. I wish you the best of luck. In the meantime, find something small and wearable, some jewelry that could potentially hold magic, and I'll do my best to show you how to create an artifact of your own."

xxx

Elsa stood at the edge of a cliffside, gazing out across dark, roiling waters. Her eyes had long since adjusted to the night, and she scanned the horizon with narrowed eyes, searching for anything that might signal the approach of an enemy ship. A fell wind blew across the moor towards her back, tugging at her cloak and howling in her ears.

A mile away on the coastline, soldiers of the Unified Empire were huddled behind sandbags and hastily constructed fortifications, waiting to intercept an advance party of the enemy with cannons and a few rotary guns. Ever since Everdark's forces had captured Arendelle, they had been gifted with a prime position from which to stage advances on England and Northern Europe. The Unified Empire had been preparing for the assault ever since, and it had been to their great benefit to receive intelligence from their spy network marking tonight as the one where Everdark would make the first foray.

It was sending a small but capable advance force, supposedly featuring two hundred elite troopers and a dozen wizards. They intended on seizing the top half of the country before the Unified Empire had a chance to respond, and from there they would begin deploying more forces into the country. Of course, they weren't counting on being intercepted. Elsa was confident that she could soften their forces considerably before they even reached the coast, whereupon they would be set upon by their ground artillery.

She glanced towards the men on the beach, huddled underneath fur blankets, both to blend into the scrubby coast and to conserve warmth against the cold. It was growing late – or rather, early – midnight had passed some time ago. Elsa wondered, not for the first time, if something had caused Everdark's forces to second guess the attack. Did they realize that their intelligence had been compromised?

 _No._ Elsa had turned back towards the ocean, and now she saw the trace of a ship's hull, just at the edge of her vision. The sea shifted, and then she could see them clearly, a pair of galleons rolling through the tides.

She turned once more to look at her soldiers, and held up a hand. She conjured a bit of frost in the air around her hand, forming a tiny, winking, blue-white light. She held it for a moment, and then put it out. A moment later, she did it again, repeating the blinking light until she saw a lone man stand and salute in her direction before huddling down again.

Elsa looked back towards the sea. She took a deep breath, and then stepped off the edge of the cliff.

She hurtled towards the roiling water, the wind howling in her ears. She watched it approach with a lurching in her stomach, a rush of exhilaration boiling in her blood. Elsa splayed her limbs and landed on the surface of the water in a crouch, the water beneath her instantaneously hardening to the consistency of thick snow. She stood again and started to sprint before she could sink into the water, magic humming through her as she carved herself a path through the water.

Elsa quickly left the still waters near the shoreline and large waves began to rear up in front of her, taller than a man and as wide as the horizon. As she came close to the first, she planted her feet solidly and created a sheet of ice beneath her feet that was far thicker near the front so that it wouldn't tip over. Water sloshed over the ice and around her legs as she rose up the front of the wave, and for a moment she had a sensation of being hurtled into the air before she crested the wave and nearly tumbled down the other side. She hit the valley before the next wave with a heavy splash, drenching her through.

And she continued to run, straight towards the next wave.

For what felt like an interminable time, Elsa kept pushing on through the surf, dashing towards the enemy ships. Far past the time that even an accomplished athlete's strength would be flagging, she still felt powerful and fresh, courtesy of her immortal soul. Rarely did she think about the advantages that it gave her, but now was one of those times. Finally, she crested another wave, and it practically threw her into the shadow of one of the ships, and after a few steps she reached the side and stabbed a pair of icy spikes into the wood.

Elsa let herself be dragged alongside the galleon for a few moments, surf crashing around her and continuing to drench her.

 _It's a good thing I can't feel the cold,_ she thought to herself. _Otherwise this would be deeply unpleasant._

She adjusted her grip on her pitons and started to climb the side of the galleon, wondering to herself whether she would encounter any wizards with different powers than anything she recognized. It was a constant danger when fighting other users of magic; though most could be sorted into one of a few broad categories, magical traits were as varied as species under the sun, and it was always difficult to know what to expect. That said, she wasn't particularly worried – she was reasonably confident that she was, by now, the most powerful human alive.

 _Of course, it still pays to be careful,_ she thought, stopping herself about ten feet above the waterline next to a porthole. She extended her arm downwards and to the side, and a heartbeat later Rimeheart materialized there, taking the form of a shortsword with a thin blade. She twisted it around and slammed it through the side of the ship, drawing it downwards several feet and then sideways and back up again, cutting a hole into the side of the ship. She rammed her shoulder into the wood and it collapsed inwards, sending her tumbling in after it.

She rolled into a crouch and took in her surroundings. She was alone in what appeared to be the crew cabin of the ship, which was empty. She picked up Rimeheart and flicked her hand. It shrunk to the size of a knife, and she walked across the room in a crouch, pausing at the door and pressing her ear against it. She could hear nothing over the howling of the wind, however, and after a moment, she opened the door and ducked into the hallway.

It, too, was empty, save for a flickering lantern set into one of the walls.

 _Where is everyone?_

She reached the ladder that led to the deck and scaled it quickly, stepping back out into the frigid sea spray. She swept her gaze about the deck and saw a single man, standing at the helm with his hands on the wheel. He took one off and hailed to her.

"Good evening, Protector! I am so pleased by your decision to join me!"

 _No,_ she thought, dashing to the edge of the ship and gazing out towards the other. Some fifty feet away in the water, it was close enough to see by pale moonlight that it, too, had an empty deck, save for a single pilot.

"Rather polite of you to leave the fighting on the shoreline to your men. Our wizards will have a far easier time with your men now."

Elsa whirled around, looking back to the shoreline. She thought that she could just make out shouting over the crashing of the waves, and there was a sudden streak of light as a pillar of flame exploded to life on the beach.

"Dammit!" She shouted, dashing towards the edge of the ship.

Before she could reach it, the man who had been at the helm of the ship a moment ago swept through the air and came to a stop in front of her, hovering several feet off of the ground and carrying a polearm with a sword's blade on the end instead of a normal spear's tip. He grinned at her, and Elsa realized that it was one of the wizards that she had fought in New York now eight months ago. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the other touch down on the deck several feet behind her.

"Last time we fought, the master instructed us not to kill you," the man in front of her said. "Back then, Everdark still believed that you might be turned. Now, it holds no such illusions."

The one behind her said, "It will be a great honor to be the first among Everdark's chosen to slay an archmage."

Elsa rarely enjoyed killing. The act of destroying her enemies was necessary to performing her duties as protector, but she almost never took pleasure in the slaughter. Now, however, as she boiled with fury at the thought of good men dying on the beachside without her protection, she found a sudden, insatiable urge to crush these arrogant men, accompanied by a sick, visceral feeling of pleasure. This was going to be fun, in a way.

Elsa flung her arm to the side, and Rimeheart burst outwards, lengthening until it was a large sword. She dashed forwards, the man in front of her swinging his sword-spear to meet her blade. They collided with a burst of energy and a peal of thunder.

 _What was your power, again? I know your friend behind me can summon lightning,_ Elsa thought, shoving forwards until spear took a step backwards and then twisting backwards to shoot a pair of icicles at halberd as he advanced on her.

He ducked out of the way of her assault and threw a ball of angry red lightning at her. Elsa conjured a swirling ward of ice around herself, and the lightning crackled as it collided the barrier. Elsa twisted and thrust Rimeheart at halberd, diving past his weapon and puncturing his breastplate. Before she could press her advantage, the other wizard's spear struck her ward and shattered it, sending her backpedaling.

She slammed Rimeheart into the deck of the ship, sending a shockwave outward that knocked her opponents out of the sky. They tumbled to the deck, and the wizard with the spear lost hold of his weapon. Elsa dashed forwards and threw out her hand, instinctually calling upon a power that she was still learning to master.

She began to freeze time itself, and things _slowed_ around her, almost as if her opponents were suddenly moving underwater. The wizard who'd had the spear a moment before had just enough time to register panic before she swept Rimeheart through his neck, sending his head spiraling into the air. The trail of blood between the his torso and head froze, leaving it suspended in midair.

Halberd was on his feet again, and Elsa felt a shuddering surge as time seemed to return to normal. She felt suddenly exhausted, drained out by this new power of hers. Still, she twisted Rimeheart to intercept his halberd as she plunged it at her chest, and while their weapons were locked, she sent a bolt of ice at his chest. He disengaged and tried to float away, but he was too slow, and the icicle crunched against his armor, crumpling the steel inwards to his chest and causing him to stutter in midair.

Elsa threw Rimeheart at him, and as it sailed through the air its hilt disappeared, and its blade became triangular and serrated. It plunged through the damaged rend in halberd's armor and he cried out in pain as he was skewered by her weapon. Once Rimeheart left his other side, Elsa clenched her fist and pulled the blade back towards herself, and the serrations tore a gaping hole in the wizard's chest, spilling gore and viscera onto the deck of the ship. Rimeheart's handle reformed just as it sailed into her hand, and the wizard collapsed face-down, clutching at his chest.

Elsa looked with disdain upon the dying man, and then back towards the shoreline. She sprinted to the edge of the ship and leapt off, conjuring a track of ice beneath her feet and continuing to run, suspended many feet above the water, towards the shore. Where earlier, she had taken pains to remain discreet as she approached the galleons, now only speed was necessary. She could see spouts of flame and the little flashes from dozens of muzzles even from this distance; the fighting was still going on.

 _They knew,_ she thought, anger still boiling in her veins. _Somehow, they knew._

A traitor? Was it possible? Who would turn against the Unified Empire in favor of the uncompromising evil that was their enemy? Perhaps the prisoners that Hans and Kariena had captured in Italy had somehow managed to learn of their intelligence. Elsa reached inside and embraced the arcana in her heart as she approached the shore, and she leapt off of her track of ice, arcing high through the air above the beachside.

Her men were now huddled behind the seaward side of their fortifications, less than twenty men left from the two hundred that there had been at the start of the night. They were set upon by a mass of soldiers in hostile colors, swarming over the hills and laying a hail of fire down on the United Empire's embankment. She could identify several wizards, as well, surrounded by small protective retinues and raining destruction upon her allies.

She funneled all her outrage into a surge of frigid magic and hurled Rimeheart towards the ground. It struck moments before she did, collapsing the earth inwards into a crater and then exploding outwards in a hemisphere of blue-white light. It swept across the battlefield, bringing hundreds of men to their knees. Elsa hit the ground in a crouch and tore Rimeheart from the dirt, charging up the slope of the crater that she'd made and roaring at her enemies.

Ten wizards across the battlefield stood, frost crunching in the folds of their robes.

"I will kill you!" Elsa screamed, widening her stance and calling magic to her fingertips. "I will kill all of you!"

The wizard closest to her, the pyromancer, smiled. Ten portals of swirling shadow appeared behind these men, and they stepped backwards into them, their honor guard following after.

"NO!" Elsa yelled, throwing an icicle at the pyromancer's portal, but it was already closing. Her bolt plowed into the earth just beyond where the pyromancer had been standing a moment before. "NO!"

The soldiers leveled their rifles at her in unison. Elsa funneled all the energy she had left into a single burst and sent a wave of icy shards outwards, a roiling tide of frozen spikes that rippled through the soldiers and tore them to pieces. A dozen muzzle flashes lit up the night as a few men managed a shot off, but they snapped ineffectually against her magical wall. A heartbeat later, the battlefield was silent.

Elsa fell to her knees, breathing heavily and holding back sobs.

They'd traded lives tonight, but each time they traded lives, the Unified Empire was pushed closer to oblivion. An enemy who could marshal all the forces of Hell could trade life for life for as long as they pleased, for unlike the Unified Empire, Everdark's army was endless.


	33. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

 _May the one who follows after me be young and hopeful, as I once was, and may they never become embittered with regret._

* * *

The Imperial Palace,

Versailles

March 8th, 1844

Eleshka Pelerine reached out to the Worldsoul. Well, not _the_ Worldsoul – one of the many things that she'd learned since coming to this plane was that there was more than one. She realized that she was clenching her eyes shut, and she forced herself to relax, taking a deep breath and settling more fully into her meditative stance. It was waiting for her in the same place it always was, a place her mind's eye imagined to be the center of the world.

It did not immediately speak to her, but it did thrum with a sort of comfortable warmth. She reached out to touch it, feeling a sort of pleasurable contentment. The initial sense of alien-ness that she had felt in this plane's Worldsoul had not faded, but it was no longer disconcerting to her, merely different. It made intimate sense that every realm would have its own underlying entity, and now It filled her with a sense of nervous excitement to think that she had been able to commune with more than one of them.

Whereas the Worldsoul of Ysgard had been calm and pastoral, like a kind old man who herded sheep on a great, golden meadow, the soul of earth was like a frenetic, enigmatic sage, brimming with wisdom on all things, and yet inarticulate at sharing this knowledge. When Eleshka felt its presence, she felt a great many things, all at once, and all competing to overwhelm the other sensations. It told her intuitively that this world was far larger and more variegated than Ysgard. She suspected that it was larger than any other plane, except perhaps the entire Sea of Stars when viewed as a whole.

 _What are you trying to tell me today?_ Eleshka asked the Worldsoul. It had just shown her a confusing jumble of images, in such rapid succession that they were already fading from her mind. There had been… a wolf, prowling amongst a flock of sheep. A young woman with golden hair, anointed in a church and then leading a great army on the battlefield. Many other things besides.

She got a sensation of unease back from the Worldsoul, something that had never happened with Ysgard's. Her home had been a happier place than this one, it seemed, and only now did she realize that a plane could experience all the same emotions that she could.

Frowning, Eleshka pressed one hand into the springy grass, feeling the softness of the earth beneath her fingertips. Something was certainly wrong, but Eleshka didn't know if there was something in specific that the Worldsoul was trying to tell her, or if it was merely conveying a general sense of discomfort. Images flickered past her mind's eye again, and this time she noticed a man, donning a white mask painted with a ghoulish face. Then, Elsa's sister, with her auburn hair and piercing turquoise eyes.

What did all of these snapshots have in common?

The Worldsoul showed Eleshka herself, standing next to Elsa on one side, who in turn was flanked by her wife the Mender. The wizard Hans stood on her other. She looked awfully out of place among them, and besides, Eleshka was certain that this had never actually happened – she couldn't even remember all of them in the same room before. But they were archmages – legends on their world and in the Sea of Stars, beings of earth-shaking power destined to fight toe to toe with a god.

Among them, Eleshka was little more than a child playing adult, in every sense of the phrase. She was an impostor.

The Worldsoul emitted a sudden, warm buzz, as if it proud to have led her to the answer. Eleshka felt a pit widen in her stomach.

 _Even the earth itself knows that I shouldn't be here,_ she thought self-piteously.

This was met with a sudden, emphatic burst of displeasure from the Worldsoul, almost like a shouted 'no.' Then an image of the empress flashed through her mind again.

 _What?_

A wolf stalking sheep, and then the empress.

Eleshka realized what it was trying to say to her, and she gasped. "The empress is an impostor?"

She felt affirmation from the Worldsoul.

"What do you mean, impostor?" She asked, growing too excited to care that she was speaking aloud now. She was alone in these gardens, she was sure of it.

The Worldsoul did not reply.

Eleshka sighed and accessed another of her powers, one that she didn't use often. She opened herself up to the auras emitted by all the living things around her. It was overwhelming at first, ten thousand unique traces all telling a different story about lives that crossed an uncrossed, searching for meaning or merely fighting to stay alive. Eleshka furrowed her brow again as she fought back the endless tide, searching for the trace of the empress. She had only met Anna Siguror twice, once when Elsa had introduced her and once when the busy empress had made it down to the dining hall for dinner with Hans and Kariena the night they'd brought back the Italian men. Still, the empress was a dynamic, unique individual, and Eleshka was certain that she would be able to pick her out of a –

There she was, in her wing of the castle, motionless but in an upright, sitting position. Her mind was firing quickly, the way an aura did when someone was in conversation with another. Eleshka ignored the surface level and tried to probe deeper. The aura was purple, which was surprising to her – she'd have assumed that Anna Siguror would be a yellow. There was something swirling in its center, too, something that she didn't recognize.

"What is that?" She murmured to herself.

She broadened her gaze and realized there was something else in the room, a great and horrible black presence. It wasn't like the aura that a human would give off; it was something older, and more powerful. In a way, its aura was similar to the one that Elsa emitted, except where hers was a pure, snowy white, its was black as night.

 _Everdark,_ the realization came to her. _It is an impostor. It has to be. There's no way that Anna would willingly speak to that thing._

The aura remained motionless for half a minute more, and then the conversation ended. Another aura appeared in the hallway, motionless outside of Anna Siguror's door. Knocking, probably. The impostor's aura shifted abruptly, shimmering and then turning yellow. Eleshka gasped, and then the other aura entered the room.

"Lost Immortals," Eleshka whispered.

xxx

Anna Siguror woke up. She was numb for several moments, and her mind whirled, struggling to remember where she was, and what was going on. Then pain hit her like a brick wall, bringing tears to her eyes and dimming her thoughts.

"Jesus," Anna mumbled, slowly rising up from the stone floor into a sitting position and rubbing at the sore, raw patches where her skin had touched the ground. Iron manacles bound her ankles, containing her to the stone hole of a cell that she was imprisoned in.

For nearly two weeks, Anna had been kept in a medieval oubliette in a far-flung corner of the palace, barely sustained by food and water lowered down to her once a day at midmorning, by a servant who never dared look down at her, no matter how hoarse she shouted herself pleading for help. Whatever Calypso Vay had told this person to convince them that Anna was a threat, it had worked.

 _They probably think that I'm the impostor,_ Anna thought bleakly, gazing up at the light filtering through the iron grate above her head. She heard footsteps in the room above her, which wasn't suprising. It was probably what had woken her. She wondered if it was even worth begging the deaf ears above her to set her free.

This was not the first time in Anna's life that she had been imprisoned and treated like an animal, but at least this time she wasn't being tortured. She struggled each day to find something to keep herself hopeful, but she was beginning to realize that she wasn't ever going to make it out of here. Elsa would have returned to Versailles at least once by now, probably multiple times. If her own sister couldn't realize that Calypso Vay was an impostor, then there was little chance of anyone else ever discovering her.

 _Stop it. Don't sink into despair. That won't help anybody._

The footsteps came closer, and she heard a metallic screech as the latch on the grate was turned. The first morning that she'd woken in this cell, Anna had tried to escape when they'd opened the grate. But the cell was eight feet high, and all she'd earned was a twisted ankle.

The light shining down upon her grew brighter as the grate opened with a squeal. She cast her gaze upwards, wondering bleakly whether she would recognize this servant. But she couldn't see their face, drowned out by the brightness.

"I don't know what she's told you," Anna said, her own voice sounding harsh and scratchy in her ears. "I know that you think I'm your enemy. But I'm not. I promise to you, I am your friend."

The food didn't lower. Were they hesitating?

Anna repeated herself in French, struggling to conjure up the words in her pain-addled mind.

"The empress said that you would be deceptive," came a familiar voice.

"Montaigne?" Anna said, her voice cracking. She felt a wave of anguish. It was truly a cruel joke, sending a man who had once been the dearest of friends to feed her like a dog. "Not you, Montaigne."

"She told me that you would try to prey upon my sympathies. But you are a sorceress, not the bright little girl that I once tutored."

"No, Montaigne," Anna said, her voice choking with sobs, "I'm not. I swear to you, I am not. Please, just ask me a question that only the real me would know the answer to."

Montaigne was silent, obviously conflicted. Anna waited with an overpowering dread, knowing that he was her last chance. If he did not believe her, then all was lost.

"What was the last thing that I said to you before your husband was killed on the night that we fled Arendelle last October?"

Anna moaned softly. Remembering anything about that night was like driving needles into her flesh. But she cast her mind back, and thought. He hadn't spoken after the bandits had overtaken them, had he? No, he hadn't. Then it was something in the carriage. He'd been comforting her, for fleeing the city. She'd felt helpless, because she wasn't a wizard. She'd felt guilt, leaving her people behind to burn.

"I remember a young woman who always had a smile on her face," Anna found herself saying, the words tumbling out of her mouth without really thinking about them. "I hope that I live long enough to see that smile again."

Silence.

"Sacredieu," she heard Montaigne murmur softly.

xxx

Who could Eleshka tell? She hurried down one of the palace's hallways, peering into chambers and around corners, looking for someone, anyone, important. She nearly ran directly into a portly servant woman carrying a wooden box filled with books. They were dusty old tomes, probably dredged up from the reliquaries of Saint-Denis on Odette's orders. She'd been hoping to find information about old magic rituals in them.

"Oh! Excuse me," she said, stepping around the servant. She turned to walk away, but stopped. "Wait a minute. Can you tell me if any of Hans, Elsa, or Odette are at the palace right now?"

The woman tapped at her chin. "Well, they certainly don't tell me when they're coming or going, I'll tell you that," she said. "But no, I don't think that any of them are. Master Westergaard and Miss Tae are both still in Italy. And Missus Novare left the palace this morning to rendezvous with her wife in England. Apparently she has some very important information to relay to her. The empress is here, if that will do for you."

 _Yep, she certainly is, isn't she?_ Eleshka thought.

"Uh, you know, I think that I'm good to wait," she replied, turning away from the woman and standing motionless in the center of the hallway.

 _There's no one here to help me. No adult to solve this problem._

Except… maybe that wasn't true.

There were still military men in the palace, right? Would they believe her if she told them what she had seen? She doubted it. She didn't have any evidence to back herself up, and it would be her own word against that of the empress. And what physical evidence did she have that Anna had been replaced by an impostor?

Nothing.

 _How do_ I _even know that what I saw was true? Do I trust this plane's Worldsoul?_

"Eleshka," a voice called.

Eleshka looked up, and a wave of fear rolled over her as she saw Anna Siguror standing at the end of the hallway. Or, well, whoever it was. She started walking towards Eleshka.

"What are you doing in this part of the palace? I'm afraid it's rather boring here in the business wing." She reached Eleshka and extended an arm.

Eleshka stared up into her eyes. They looked so natural. So unthreatening. She couldn't possibly be an impostor. Besides, it's not like the empire was falling apart, right? Surely if there was some sort of impostor hiding among them, privy to all of the empire's most sensitive information, then they'd have been crushed by now.

Right?

"I was just heading out to the gardens. Would you like to come with me? I'd like very much to get to know you a bit better. After all, my sister speaks very highly of you."

Eleshka's skin crawled.

"Alright," she said, slowly letting Anna take her arm. She let the empress begin leading her through the halls towards the gardens.

In contrast to their leisurely pace, Eleshka's mind raced, jumping about in a desperate search for anything that could give her a way out of this situation. She had no idea if the impostor Anna suspected that she knew, but still Eleshka had the sense that she was going to die if she didn't think of something, quick.

"Tell me about your power," Anna said. "Elsa never did tell me what you can do."

Eleshka wondered if she should lie. Maybe just a half-truth?

"I can make plants grow," she said.

"Really?" Anna asked, pursing her lips. "Well, I'm sure that it's a bit more impressive than you make it sound."

"No, it's about as unimpressive as you think," Eleshka said, glancing at the hallway around them.

Why couldn't there be anyone else in this hallway? Was this really the way to the gardens? Eleshka squeezed her eyes shut and started looking for the Worldsoul.

 _You're gonna need to give me some help here, buddy._

They turned another corner, and suddenly they were standing before a doorway. Anna opened it up, and Eleshka saw that it let out into a private garden, enclosed on all sides by a maze of hedges and strongly perfumed of the many rosebushes planted in its soil. They stepped outside, and Eleshka extricated herself from the empress's arm in the least rude way that she could.

"Hey, uh, Anna?" She asked, doing her best to keep her voice even. She took a few steps into the garden. There was a vine trellis up the wall of the palace, and a little bench surrounded by an apple tree and a peach tree. Fat bumblebees wove their way lazily through the air, passing between multicolored roses.

"Hmm?" Anna asked, examining a birdfeeder that hung from the apple tree.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up empress? I mean, your sister seems like the more natural choice, right?" Eleshka normally wouldn't ask such a question – it was impolite – but she wanted a way to keep Anna talking, at any cost.

"That's a rather pointed question," the impostor said, still facing the birdfeeder. Eleshka wondered if she didn't know the answer. "A rather rude one, I might add."

"You'll excuse my impertinence. In Ysgard, when the royal inheritance was disputed, it was always given to the most powerful spellcaster among the contestants." It was an utter lie. In Eleshka's entire life, her father had always been the chief of her people in Ysgard, and he was no such thing as royalty. They were not large or powerful enough to have anything resembling a king.

"Well, we do things differently here," the empress said, her voice sounding uncomfortable. She _didn't_ know how Anna had been made empress, Eleshka was sure of it. "You mentioning your home reminds me of why I wanted to talk to you, though."

"What's that?" Eleshka asked warily, still watching Anna's back.

"Why didn't you follow the rest of your people to Arborea when they fled Ysgard? Why did you come here?"

"I didn't intend to," Eleshka said honestly. "There's a… there's a being, in the demiplane that we passed through on our way there, and it spoke to me. It convinced me that I was supposed to come here, instead."

"How did it convince you of that?"

"Well, it thinks that I might be a hero," she said cautiously.

"How nice," Anna said, turning away from the birdfeeder and fixing her piercing gaze on Eleshka again. "Tell me, Eleshka, why one of my gardeners came to my ladies this morning and told them that you said I was an impostor."

Eleshka felt a spike of fear.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about."

Anna's eyes flashed. "I think that you do."

She started prowling across the space between them, and Eleshka unconsciously started backing up.

 _I can't fight, I can't fight,_ _I can't fight,_ kept whirling through Eleshka's head. She was going to die out here. She wanted to scream for help, but for some reason she couldn't make a sound.

Anna surged forwards, moving on her in a blur. Eleshka felt a horrible thud, and she was briefly lifted into the air before she hit the ground, the breath driven from her lungs. She rolled to the side and the empress's fist the ground where she'd been a moment before, a rush of wind blowing past her ear. Eleshka gasped with fear and scrambled to her feet, backing away from the impostor.

"Who are you?" Anna said, her voice cool and angry. She held her hands out to her sides, and they were glowing with a dark, formless magic. "Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Eleshka said, trying not to panic when her back hit the stone wall of the palace behind her. She glanced sideways to the door. Lost Immortals, it seemed so far away.

Anna dove for her, and Eleshka threw her hands forwards, internally screaming to the Worldsoul, _Please help!_

Vines erupted from the trellis to her left and swirled forwards to entangle the impostor. She cried out with frustration, struggling against her bonds. Eleshka dashed away, crashing through a rosebush and scratching herself raw. Her foot looped under a tree root and she collapsed to the ground, twisting her ankle painfully and gasping again, clutching at it with tears in her eyes.

She struggled back to her feet and reached inside for her magic again, and Anna burst through the mangled rosebush a moment later, murder in her eyes.

"Covering up the deaths of the Italian man and his son was easy," she said. "Nobody here cared about them. But for some reason, Elsa cares about you. So I'm going to have to find a way to cover this up. But don't worry; I'm certain that I'll delight in finding a creative solution."

She dove for Eleshka again, and Eleshka clenched her fists, dragging the thorns from the rosebushes free from their stems and sending them needling into the empress. She cried out with rage and swung a glowing purple fist at Eleshka, bloody furrows streaking her exposed flesh. Her fist plowed into Eleshka's stomach and she felt a horrible, electric pulse run through her body.

"Aaagh!" Eleshka crumpled to the ground, and she was struck again, and again, and again, pain rippling through her body.

"I don't often get the chance to kill a wizard," the impostor said, voice savage. Eleshka rolled onto her back, and the impostor closed a hand around her neck, beginning to squeeze with surprising strength. "But it feels grand."

"P-please," Eleshka choked out, clawing ineffectually at the woman's hand. She couldn't breathe. She started to panic, and began thrashing, kicking out with her legs in a desperate attempt to get the impostor off of her.

Bang.

A gunshot cracked in the air, leaving Eleshka's ears ringing. The impostor's face froze, locked in a grimace of a smile. Her grip on Eleshka's neck loosened, and then became slack, and she tumbled forwards, collapsing to the ground.

Eleshka dragged herself to her feet, gasping for air and coughing. She glanced around, heart hammering in her chest. Who had fired the gun? She'd never heard one before, and it was louder than she could possibly have imagined.

A weary, battered, and bruised version of the woman who lay dead on the ground stepped out of the cultivated foliage, holding a smoking pistol up beside her head. She stared at the collapsed body, her eyes brimming with hatred.

"Anna?" Eleshka asked hesitantly. Was this the real one? It had to be, didn't it?

The auburn woman slowly turned her gaze to Eleshka, where it became confused.

"Who the hell are you?" She asked.


	34. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

 _Admitting that we'd lost was the hardest thing that I ever had to do._

* * *

A battlefield in Western Austria

March 8th, 1844

"Fall back!" General Tarson yelled as a shell hit the stone fortifications behind him and sent a shower of shards down upon him and his embattled men. "Fall back! Run for your lives!"

Just this morning, Tarson had been patrolling this fortress, and he'd thought to himself that it would be rather impregnable to any enemy. He'd learned just a few hours later how wrong he was; half his forces had been dispatched to do humanitarian work in the impoverished nearby villages, extending the formal offer of the Unified Empire that all refugees devastated by the war could come to Paris to seek refuge. But with so many men gone, the walls had been left underdefended, to say the least, and in the span of an hour a massive force of the enemy had descended upon them like a swarm of locusts. It was the first time they'd ever been attacked here, and it was such poor luck that Tarson was beginning to think that there had been a mole.

The horrid song of gunfire pounded Tarson's eardrums and drowned out the cries of pain from shattered men lying broken on the floor of the bunker. There was another battery of rumbling booms, like a roll of thunder, and then the whistling screams of cannonballs as Tarson and the men that could still stand fell back into the fortress's last redoubt. The cannon fire pummeled the stone, knocking down crenellations that dated back centuries, and caving in another section of the wall. The door to the redoubt was thrown, and a heavy wooden bar was lowered into place. The sound was cut by half, and for a few moments Tarson could hear his own heartbeat, hammering away in his chest.

"Sir!" A younger man said, appearing in front of him. Tarson recognized the man's face, but in the stress of the moment he couldn't remember the fellow's name. "Sir!"

"What is it!" Tarson yelled, perhaps louder than he intended to. He was struggling not to lose hope, but he had never fought a battle this destined to fail before. His was a world of well-planned, tactical assaults; he always preferred to attack supply caravans or capture unguarded villages. This was madness.

"We can't leave them out there!" The boy said, emotion making his voice hoarse. "Half my division is still out there! We need to –"

"They're dead, son!" Tarson yelled, cutting him off. He became aware that everyone else in this small stone room was silent, and that he shouldn't be yelling such things for the damage that it would do to their morale, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. "They're dead, and unless you want to be fucking dead, too, then you'll follow my goddamn orders!"

The boy didn't flinch or back down from Tarson's shouting. His face hardened and he set his jaw. "With all due respect, _sir,_ I think that we're going to be dead whether we follow your orders or not."

Tarson felt the grip of fear. He found that he couldn't conjure up a response to the boy's insubordination. There was another series of earth-shaking booms as another round of cannonfire tore through the bunker's wall and started to shell their stronghold.

"There must be a way out of here!" A man said, his voice injected with panic.

Men began to surge around Tarson, struggling to find some way to escape their fate. But he felt only an unfamiliar emptiness, spreading from his gut to the rest of his body, until he could hardly feel anything, anymore.

"One of the wizards will save us!" Somebody cried, and there were some cheers from the others.

Tarson realized that they could be right. He'd heard stories from some of his subordinates of situations where they'd been hopelessly outmatched by Everdark's forces, only to be saved when Elsa or Hans showed up and singularly turned the tide of the battle. He felt a glimmer of hope, and to that he clung as he sat unmoving on a stone bench against the wall of the bunker, feeling it shake as their doom approached.

Some of the men started to pray, and it occurred to Tarson that he should, as well. He tried to formulate a prayer in his mind, but he couldn't think of anything. Elsa had told him once that God was dead, and he believed her. She knew far more about the realm of immortals than he ever would.

The cannonade stopped, but there was another thunder, this one the sound of men's feet as their enemies pressed in around the stone room. Tarson watched as his men huddled behind crates and trained their rifles on the door. A man shook at his shoulder, and shouted at him, but he couldn't hear a word he said. The man abandoned him, and Tarson wondered how long it would take them to get through the door.

As it turned out, it took them no time at all.

The door, strong oak and reinforced with steel, was torn away from the wall with disturbing ease. They were suddenly, horribly exposed, and a man wearing a faceless black mask stepped aside and let a wave of gunfire crash down upon them. Tarson saw his men torn apart before his eyes, their heads snapping back as little red holes appeared in them. He saw them shoot back, and he felt an overpowering sense of futility as he watched them die.

Then he felt a flash of pain, and there was nothing.

xxx

Rapunzel heard a scream in what sounded like her mother's voice. Alarmed, she looked back at her girl Rosaline, whose attention hadn't been broken from her needlework.

"Wait here for a minute, Rosaline," she said. "I need to go check on nana for a minute."

"Okay, mama," Rosaline said obediently.

Rapunzel stood and fought down alarm as she left the room. Arianna never seemed old to Rapunzel, but really she was past the age where she could be seriously injured by a fall. Once again, Rapunzel thought to herself that she and Eugene really needed to see to getting Arianna some sort of handler. A manservant, probably a young and handsome one so she didn't feel embarrassed to be laden with him, to make sure that she was getting along alright.

She nearly bumped into Eugene in the hallway outside her mother's quarters, and he smiled ruefully.

"We keep getting burnt by making our decisions too slowly."

Rapunzel sighed. "She'll be alright, I'm sure," she said as she opened the door and stepped over the threshold into Arianna's sitting chamber. "But you're right. Mom?"  
They passed through the sitting room and into Arianna's bedroom, and Rapunzel screamed.

Her mother lay crumpled on the floor beside her bed, in a state of partial undress with a pair of knife wounds in her back. Her maidservant lay face-up on the floor a few feet behind her, lifeless eyes staring upwards and slick with blood from a slashed throat. A dark-cloaked wizard stood in the center of the chamber, and it turned a faceless mask towards them.

"Rapunzel, go!" Eugene shouted, shoving his wife backwards into the living room.

He reached to shut the door, but the wizard drew a knife from within its dark robe and slung it with deadly precision at him. The knife spiraled through the air and plunged into the back of his head, the tip emerging reddened just above the bridge of his nose.

"NO!" Rapunzel screamed, filled with a sense of horror and disbelief unlike anything she'd felt before. "NO!"

Eugene collapsed forwards to his knees, and then face-first onto the floor, blood dribbling from his forehead.

 _You can heal him, you can heal him,_ Rapunzel thought, hysterical sobs escaping from her mouth as she scrambled across the floor towards him.

The wizard reached him first and kicked her backwards with surprising force. She hit the floor hard and watched with horror as this faceless figure prowled across the floor towards her, producing another pair of gleaming knives from its robes. Rapunzel had never felt fear like this before. She clutched at her chest, her panicked brain realizing that she had to run, but she couldn't move. With nothing else to do, Rapunzel started to scream.

The wizard dove towards her, knives flashing in the air, and she felt a brilliant pain.

xxx

Hans watched solemnly as a small group of soldiers filed through the portal, many of them cripplingly wounded. They were all that remained of the men who had been tasked with holding Milan after it had been defended several weeks ago. What had once been one thousand men was now a few less than thirty.

"It's hard to comprehend losses of this magnitude," he murmured softly to Kariena, who stood beside him, the same grim expression on her face.

They had returned from Rome a few days before, having successfully accomplished a number of strategic goals. They'd disbanded their portal afterwards, so that the enemy could not use it against them. The same could not be said about all of them. Over the last twenty-four hours, a cascade of defeats had crashed down upon the Unified Empire, the news relayed to them by a stream of frantic messengers from the capital. The empire had been anticipated at every turn, leading Hans to realize that there had been a traitor. Not just a traitor, but one privy to incredibly sensitive information. They'd come from the highest ranks, and he'd spent a long time thinking about who it could possibly have been.

The traitor had given Everdark everything it needed to know about their troop placements, and it had hit them hard in every single place they'd been exposed. Hans wasn't sure what portal exactly they'd gained control of first, but it didn't matter. Once they had it, they'd been able to launch a flurry of devastating assaults. Hans hadn't been back to Paris tonight, so he wasn't even sure of the extent of the damage, but he knew that it was going to be catastrophic.

"It's all coming down, in one bloody night," Kariena said. Her words fueled a quiet, smoldering anger in Hans. He hated that this had happened, and he hated how powerless he was to stop any of it. "We built up a house of cards, and in the end all it took was one person to send it tumbling down."

"We'll find them," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We'll find whoever did this, and we'll make them pay."

Kariena glanced sideways at him. "The damage is already done," she said, stepping into the back of the line as the last of the men passed through the portal. "Vengeance isn't going to bring anyone back."

Hans didn't reply as he watched her disappear into the arcana. He was last, reaching up and wrenching the hearthstone from the top of the portal before he stepped into it. It would become unstable in a few moments without the stone to bind the magic together, and in less than a minute it would collapse and become totally impassable.

He stepped out onto the Wargate Platform at Versailles, a circular open-air building held up by columns set that had been built at the edge of the expansive palace grounds. He saw Elsa leaning against one of the pillars nearby, a dark expression on her face as she watched crippled men file past her.

"I imagine that you had about the same experience in England as we did in Italy," Hans said as she stepped away from the pillars and fell into step beside him.

"We've been betrayed," Elsa said, her voice cool and icy.

"By whom?" Hans asked, confident that she was right but unsure who could possibly have done it. "I can count on one hand the amount of people who knew as much about where our forces would be as this person apparently did. And I trust all of them."

"The one who did it is already dead," Elsa said grimly. "But the damage has already been done."

xxx

Anna Siguror felt terrible. She had a splitting headache, all of her joints complained of their long contact with stone, her eyes burned, and her eyelids felt heavy. She knew that she'd lost weight, and that she'd never be able to personally feed Michael again. She'd been made weak with relief when she'd found her son safe and sound, but in hindsight it didn't make any sense for the shapeshifter to kill her son. She'd have needed to make it look like an accident, which was easy enough for a baby, but still it would have drawn attention to her in an unnecessary way.

Anna stood at the head of the table in the situation room now, not trusting herself to stay awake should she sit. Elsa, Hans, Kariena, and Odette were in the room with her. Everyone else, all the generals and advisors, were somewhere in the kingdom, many of them fighting for their lives as they struggled to protect the empire on this disastrous day.

"Your majesty, we should seriously consider disbanding the portal into Paris," Hans said. "Everdark has already gained access to many of the portals. The enemy is likely preparing to stage a full-scale invasion of Paris as we speak."

Anna rubbed at her face, and didn't immediately reply. They had lost so much. Minutes ago, she received word from those who had managed to escape Corona that the city had fallen, and her cousin Rapunzel had been killed. Morocco, Austria, and now the north of England was gone. They had lost thousands of soldiers, and countless innocents.

All because the shapeshifter had managed to take her face. Anna took a slow, unsteady breath.

"We can't just abandon them all," she said. There were still dozens of cities in the empire that had not yet been invaded, and they would all be left to the wolves if they disbanded the portal now. Anna looked around the table, and was met only with downcast gazes. "They'll die without our support. We'd be throwing away thousands of lives to protect our own."

Hans and Kariena looked at Elsa. Anna felt a flash of annoyance; they were waiting for her to say it, thinking that Anna would be more willing to listen to her.

"Anna, they're going to die at this point no matter what we do," she said softly. "At this point, we need to make sure that we do what we can to save who we can. We _can_ protect the people in this city."

Anna couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Odette," she said, turning to Elsa's wife, who leaned against the far wall, her arms crossed tight over her chest. "You can't agree with them, right? I mean, you're the one who made these portals."

"That's exactly why I agree with them," Odette said, voice laced with pain. "My creations were turned against us by Everdark's armies. _I'm_ the reason these people are dead."

"No," Anna said, turning her gaze around the others again and feeling a pit open in her stomach. "No, no, we can't do this. We can't."

"Anna, we have to," Kariena said.

"Don't tell me what we have to do!" Anna screamed, feeling a boiling fire unexpectedly erupt in her blood. "I will not stand by and watch my empire burn! There are people out there who need us, and we are _not_ going to give up on them!"

Kariena took a step backwards, her eyes widening. They all looked shocked at her outburst, and Hans and Elsa shared a glance. Nobody spoke for a long time, and Anna sank into the seat on the other end of the table, sighing deeply. She realized that bleak, hopeless tears were streaming down her cheeks, and eventually she wove a hand at the others.

"Get out of here," she said, stifling a sob. "I want to be alone."

One by one, they filed out until she was alone with Elsa, who lingered behind. She strode around the table and placed a hand on Anna's shoulder, holding it there for a few seconds before she too left the chamber.

xxx

Hans had a troubled expression on his face as he leaned against a balcony window overlooking the road to Paris. Elsa nodded to him as she settled in beside him, following his gaze to the reddened gleam of the setting sun against the horizon. The countryside had a pastoral glow, and it was just awakening from its winter slumber and coming to life with the heartbeat of spring. It was beautiful, and it was temporary. In her mind's eye, Elsa could see an endless army of darkness marching across these fields, an unholy oriflamme flown from the front of their ranks.

"We have to close the portal," he said softly. "I understand your sister's pain, I really do. But by trying to save them, we would lose Paris as well."

Elsa glanced sideways. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders bunched with tension. Hans was a man always restless, always eager to be on the move. He probably wanted to be sprinting the road to Paris right now, to dismantle the portal himself. He was headstrong, even reckless sometimes. But this time, he was right.

"I know," she said hollowly.

"We need to leave, now," he said. "I fear that by the time we reach Paris, it will already be under siege."

It was fifteen miles to Paris, but they could use the portal – as a matter of fact, they should, and then they could disable it on the way…

"I'll get Odette," Elsa said.

Hans nodded, and stepped away from the window, turning in the direction Kariena had gone. He glanced back at her. "Is Eleshka ready?"

Elsa thought about it briefly before replying. "She has to be. This fight is coming to her, whether she likes it or not."


	35. Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

 _Now I speak directly to you, the next Protector. Please heed these words and surpass me in every way._

* * *

Paris,

France

March 8th, 1844

Elsa stepped through the wargate into Paris, and even as Versailles faded around her, she was struck by the overpowering silence. Like the calm before a mighty storm, the streets that stretched away from the Arc de Triomphe like the spokes of a wheel were bereft of man or carriage, and all the windows of all the buildings were shuttered just after midday. Odette, Hans, Kariena, and Eleshka stepped out of the gateway behind her, all of them casting their gazes about the quieted city.

"Where did everybody go?" Eleshka asked softly.

The city was clearly not currently under attack, which was a great relief to Elsa. She'd convinced herself on the way that they were going to be too late, but it seemed that fate had smiled upon them. They still had time to protect the city. She still had time to do her duty.

A lone man wearing a uniform of the empire stepped around the edge of the arch and bowed briefly to them.

"Master wizards. My name is Jean-Luc Pouillard, and I'm the man in charge of keeping this city safe. Once we received word that the empire was falling, we immediately started withdrawing the city's population towards the Île de la Cité. We figured that it's the most defensible part of the city, and the Notre Dame already has the infrastructure to house a large number of displaced people."

"I assume that's where the rest of your men are, now?" Elsa asked.

"Either there, or patrolling the streets as part of the roundup. We've got two million people calling this city home, with the refugees. We're not going to be able to get everyone onto an island barely bigger than the Notre Dame, and some of my men are trying to find somewhere else to put them all."

Elsa had been to Paris several times in her youth, and had spent a fair amount of time in it since the unification of the empire, but this city was not her home.

"Very well. We leave it to you to find the best way to protect them all, Pouillard."

His face bore a look of terrible responsibility, and he nodded gravely. "Yes, Protector. We left the portal open for the time being in the hopes that friends would arrive, but so far you've been the only ones. Is it time to cut ourselves off?"

Elsa glanced back at the others. They were still not all onboard with the idea of cutting Paris off from the rest of the empire. Eleshka was very resistant to the idea, and Odette and Kariena both still seemed very reluctant to go along with this, even after they'd argued the case to Anna. Elsa understood how they felt, of course; the thought of giving up on all the work they'd done to build a single, unified opposition to Everdark was reviling to her. And that didn't even take into account the massive and horrific loss of life that would occur.

But Elsa didn't see any other options. Her hands were tied, and she was bound down this path to its conclusion.

Elsa opened her mouth to speak, but to her surprise, Eleshka cut her off.

"No, we won't be closing this portal."

Elsa frowned, turning to look upon the girl with alarm. She saw a surprising conviction in Eleshka's eyes, those eyes that matched her brother's in their haunting brightness.

"If we close the gate, then we have invited Everdark to crush everything outside of this city. We will be divided and conquered. In time, they will come to us anyway, and we will be weakened without the strength of the allies that we once had. But if we leave the portal open, then maybe they will come to Paris first."

"Eleshka –"

"She's right," Odette said, a spark of something appearing in her eyes. "And we've been ignoring that Everdark's armies have the ability to create their own portals. Why cut ourselves off from the rest of the empire when the blood of one wizard is a price they have proven themselves willing to pay? We lose more than we gain. We've been going about this wrong."

Elsa saw their logic. She… she was beginning to wonder if they were right.

"If they concentrate their attack here, then it will give our allies a moment to breathe. Those that can spare them will send reinforcements," Eleshka said, voice passionate. "There are some sacrifices that we cannot make."

Kariena joined in. "They're both right. Let's bring the fight to us. Engage them on _our_ terms."

Elsa glanced at Hans. His face looked troubled, and he looked up to meet Kariena's eyes. Something passed between them, and then he shrugged.

"I don't feel that I have the moral authority to determine that the people in this city should be put at greater risk in order to give a better chance to those in the rest of the empire, but the argument goes both directions. I don't have any right to give up on the people in other parts of the kingdom, either. So, I suppose that I agree. We might as well give this our best shot."

Elsa turned back to the soldier. "Very, well, then, Pouillard. The portal remains open."

He looked surprised, and he swallowed heavily. "Very well, then, master wizards. I trust that your judgment will prove wise. If you will excuse me, I will disperse the news to my men that we might expect an attack within the coming hours."

xxx

"Should we really be waiting?" Elsa asked, pacing the floor restlessly, flicking her wrist and watching a swirl of ice form and then dissipate in the air around her fingers over, and over again. "I think that one of us might be better spent trying to hit them where it counts."

"Who could we spare?" Odette asked, voice tense. "Nobody but you is strong enough to do any real damage to them, Elsa. And if you were gone, we would be losing our best defender. I'm sure that patience will earn you a fight before the sun goes down."

Elsa felt annoyance of her own, but she bit back a sharp reply. They were all on edge, and, as usual, Odette was right. They'd been in Paris for the better part of two hours now, and Elsa was pacing on the top of a small building near the Île de la Cité. Behind them and across a muddy stretch of the Seine, the Notre Dame rose like an imposing, gothic mountain. The air was dense now with the press of thousands as the soldiers of the empire tried to corral Paris's massive populace together.

"We can't win this fight by playing defense forever," Elsa said, sighing.

"I'm not saying we can," Odette replied. "But now is not the time, nor the place."

Elsa's back was turned away from the Arc de Triomphe, arms crossed over her chest, when a fell wind swept across her, billowing her cloak outwards around her. She whirled around to gaze towards the portal, narrowing her eyes as she saw that strange wisps of darkness were beginning to spiral through the air around the grand gateway.

"They are coming!" Eleshka called from her position in the street down below. She crumpled to her knees, placing her hands over her temples and squeezing her eyes shut. "The world is in anguish!"

"Well, they didn't make us wait," Elsa said, swallowing hard and drawing Rimeheart from the mists.

Odette stood and shoved Elsa's sword arm out of the way, kissing her wife for a few brief seconds. Odette cupped the side of Elsa's face as she drew away, gazing up at her with eyes bleak with worry.

"Don't die on me," she whispered.

Elsa smiled slightly. "Not today, my love."

Odette drew away, and at that moment there was an explosion unlike anything Elsa had ever felt. It was as if the world itself were being sundered, and for a moment Elsa could not tell where she was. Her head spun, and she saw a spiral of colors. Her ears were mute save an incessant whine, and vaguely as her sense came back, she realized that she lay crumpled on the rooftop several feet away from where she had been standing before. She dragged herself up off of the rooftop, wincing as splinters from the its shingling ground their way into her palms.

She raised her gaze again to the horizon and gasped. The Arc de Triomphe was gone, and so was an entire city block around it in every direction. There was no longer a center to the city, but a truly massive portal, an arcane threshold that led directly into Hell. A ragged skyline of volcanic peaks was visible through the portal, fire and brimstone swirling in the skies above a dark army, stretching forever into oblivion.

"Odette?" Elsa called out, whirling around as she realized that her wife no longer stood on the rooftop with her. "Odette?"

"I'm down here!" She called from the street below. "I fell during the explosion, but I'm fine! Go!"

Elsa looked back to the center of the city, and she heard a war horn let out a long, plaintive cry. It was met with a thunderous roar, and the volume of a million voices raised in unison struck her like a physical blow. Elsa had experienced many unnamable horrors during her fight against Everdark, and throughout them all she had become emboldened, growing more inoculated to fear as her powers increased.

But now, for the first time since the day that Hans had been killed in New York City, Elsa felt fear.

They had been outnumbered before, sometimes horribly so. But this was not simply outnumbered. There were perhaps fifteen thousand fighting men in this city, and maybe twenty wizards, if one was willing to account the many acolytes who were somewhere in the process of being trained. The enemy began their charge, pouring through the yawning portal with a force so massive it was as if the entirety of Hell had been emptied upon them.

Elsa's conviction wavered, and in that moment, she realized that everything they had done for the last eighteen months had been completely, utterly pointless. They had never had any chance of winning, and they had only succeeded in revealing their hubris through their pointless struggle. She felt bile rise in her throat, and tears stung at her eyes.

 _So this is defeat._

"Elsa, please!" came Odette's voice from below. "You need to go! Fight them!"

 _Odette's going to die, and I won't be able to protect her. They all will, and I am going to fail each and every one of them._

"Come on!" She heard Hans call, and she stepped to the edge of the rooftop and saw, in the street below, Hans, Kariena, and a dozen or so wizard acolytes dashing across the cobbles towards their enemy. "Defend your families and your homes! Show them the meaning of bravery!"

And they ran after him, charging into a fight that would mean their certain death. Elsa watched them go, and then closed her eyes, clenching her hands tight around the hilt of her blade.

"This isn't about winning, Elsa!" Odette cried up at her from where she knelt beside Eleshka, a hand on the girl's shoulder. "It's about one last stand! It's about making sure they pay a price!"

Finally, Odette's words seemed to break through, and Elsa's commitment returned. She was afraid, and this fight was hopeless. But she swore an oath to protect the weak and the downtrodden, and she swore an oath to never, ever give up. Elsa stepped off of the edge of the building, and as she fell a track of ice sprung to life beneath her feet. She took a step towards the sea of monsters awaiting her at the center of the city, and then another, and then another. She started to run, feeling an ashen wind tug at her hair and a startling vigor with each breath that passed through her lungs.

The streets flew past beneath her, and she vaguely recognized when she passed over Hans and the others. She sped up to a sprint, and stopped feeling anything. Her blood raged in her veins, and magic roared in her heart, and then she leapt from the edge of her icy track into the air, hanging for a heartbeat against the profile of the setting sun above the darkness.

xxx

Even from where she knelt many streets away, Odette felt a blast of wintry air when Elsa hit the enemy lines. She felt a strange mixture of pride and terror at the thought of her wife standing against the armies of darkness.

"Come on, Eleshka, I need you to focus on standing up," she said softly.

Ardentum's sister lay crumpled on the ground, passing between dull moans and piercing shrieks as she shared in the world's agony. Odette could not sense a lifeline in the planet itself, but she often felt a sort of empathetic anguish through her bonds when someone close to her was injured, and she could only imagine what it was like to have the world sundered by Everdark. She pressed her hands to the girl's narrow shoulders and focused on strengthening her lifeline, pouring her own energy into it. But Eleshka's lifeline was not in danger; this was about her arcane bond to the world, not physical injury. Odette's brow furrowed with worry.

"I cannot stay here!" Eleshka cried. "It is dying!"

"What else is happening?" Odette asked, fear quickening her heartbeat. Surely the one rend in space in the center of Paris could not be enough to cause the world anguish like this?

"There are many tears!" Eleshka said, struggling to her knees. "All over the empire, where they have captured your portals – they are doing something to them, something dark!"

There was a warping sound, alien and unnatural, and then a flash of light, and a portal opened at the end of the street that Odette and Eleshka were crouched upon. On the other side of the gateway Odette could see a burning fortress, a crumbled building that had been brought down by artillery. Soldiers began to pour through the gash, flanking a tall, imposing figure wearing black, with a faceless mask.

"It's time to go," Odette said, fumbling with the pendant around her neck as the men began to flood the street. One pointed in their direction and called something out.

Odette managed to get Ceristo's locket out of her blouse and wrenched it from her neck, the fine chain shattering. She spared a passing thought of guilt that she was running from the same fight that she had just pleaded Elsa to engage in, but she was no warrior. Odette grasped Eleshka's hand and closed her other around the cool jet in the pendant's center, and closed her eyes. She reached into the magic in her heart and gasped as it seemed to explode outwards in response.

A brilliant light engulfed her, and then she experienced a powerful sensation of vertigo as she and Eleshka were hurtled into the void.

xxx

Hans emptied his revolver into a crowd of charging men, slinging it back into its holster and drawing his blade as they reached him. He went insubstantial and let the first wave pass directly through him, overbalancing themselves with their broad swings and tumbling to the ground as he rematerialized behind them. He whirled and skewered a man through the head, twisting his blade with such force that it split their skull and sent the top of their head flying at the next wave charging towards him.

Hans drew his other sword and jumped into the fray, stepping into a sea of whirling blades and unleashing himself to the thrill of the fight. Kariena appeared beside him and they moved in unison, their blades flashing back and forth with deadly precision. Hans kicked out a man's knees, and Kareina slashed through his neck when he fell. She rammed her shoulder into another, and as he stumbled backwards Hans cut his blade hand off. They pressed themselves back to back and turned in a circle as they cleared the ground around them, taking down enemy after enemy in the matter of a few seconds.

When they were alone on their section of street, Hans looked at the pile of bodies around them. A street over, the roar of their enemies was like thunder.

"This is gonna be a long day," he said, catching his breath.

Kariena nodded, wincing and placing a hand on her side.

"I'm too young to be getting cramps like this," she said, smirking slightly.

Then, without another word, they dashed into an alleyway and onto the other street, jumping back into the fray. There were at least two dozen enemy soldiers here, surrounding an embattled trio of the empire's novice wizards. Even as they ran to meet them at their position, an older man was cut down, swarmed by hacking blades. Kariena teleported the last ten feet and landed in a crouch in their midst, striking out in every direction. Hans skewered one from behind and left his blade there, shoving another man away from the rest of the wizards and engaging him with his remaining blade.

The man looked like the rest of Everdark's soldiers – they had once been ordinary people, but in their undeath they had been forced into a benighted servitude. He was on the shorter side, and not physically imposing, and Hans disarmed him in one moment and shoved his sword through the man's jaw in the next. They were horribly outmatched in numbers, but Everdark had not been discerning in its recruitment. It seemed that every man who had ever passed into Hell was fair game for its necromantic summons, and as a result, it was rare that Hans was ever met with someone who truly matched his skill.

A sword slashed his back, drawing a fine, shallow cut. He whirled about and killed the man who had wounded him with a stab through the chest, but the damage was done. He may have had an advantage of skill, but even a master swordsman could fall to enough novices at once.

The street was cleared, and Hans leaned down to help one of their wizards off of the ground.

"Thanks," the fellow said. "We were doomed until you arrived."

"Thank me later," Hans replied. "The fight's far from over."

"We can't keep this up," the other living novice said, her voice frantic. "There's just too many of them! We'll all be killed!"

Hans glanced at Kariena. Her eyes were fraught with worry.

"No," she said. "No, we can't. But we don't have to."

 _What?_

"What do you mean?" The young wizard said. Abruptly, his name came back to Hans. Thomas. Hans wondered where he had learned it before.

"We just need to get to the portal itself. The Arc de Triomphe."

"What? That's where there's the most of them!" Thomas said.

"We'd be fools to try to get there!" The girl said. "We need to run!"

Hans placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Peace, witch. Do you have family at the Notre Dame?"

Her eyes widened with fear. She didn't need to respond.

"Then we must continue to fight. For them."

She nodded shakily.

He turned back to Kariena, curious to hear why they needed to get to the portal. Surely nothing awaited them in Hell?

"Everdark is displaying its strength by opening Hell upon us, but it is also exposing a weakness," she said. "Everdark only gained control of the dead when it took the Underworld from Hades last summer."

Hans realized what she was saying.

"Someone would need to kill Everdark to become the new master of Hell," Hans said, shaking his head. "That's not much easier than defeating this army, and we don't even know if the God of Darkness will be beyond that portal."

"No, but Hades's temple will be," Kariena said.

Hans frowned. She just might… she just might be on to something. He shook his head, and laughed once.

"Hell, that's a better idea than slogging through meaningless waves of bad guys until we die," he said, and indicated towards the center of the city. "Lead the way, Kariena."

xxx

Elsa threw out a hand, and a dozen men charging her froze in place. She flicked her wrist, and ice roiled upwards from the ground and swarmed over their bodies, ensconcing them in icy tombs. She turned and swept her swords through another of her foes, the thunderous clap that was emitted by her strike sending several more to their knees. She fought with purpose and skill, honed by months of relentless combat against their unwavering adversary.

Wave after wave of the undead continued to advance on her, a never-ending stream that she couldn't help but feel that she was completely inconsequential in the face of. She struck them down in instants, cutting through them in droves, but they never, ever let up. She couldn't tell how long she'd been fighting, but she wasn't making any progress towards the center of the city anymore, and dozens of them were streaming around her, pursuing the soldiers and innocents barricaded on the Île de la Cité.

Elsa knew that the enemy had probably reached the island by now, and the soldiers there were likely being set upon by overwhelming forces. But she couldn't get to them; it was all she could do not to give ground where she was. She whirled and rammed her blade through the chest of a man who had been stalking up behind her, and felt her wards take a pummeling from her now-exposed side. The icy barrier collapsed, and she felt a spear graze her side. She turned back and threw out her hand again, an torrent of hail clearing the ground around her for fifteen feet.

She grimaced as she looked down at the thin red line stretching from her hip to her sternum, and with some concentration, swirling shields of translucent ice appeared in the air around her again. But the enemies didn't charge her. They stood several feet away, seeming content to wait. For something.

Then they parted, and three wizards stepped through their ranks. A man, at the center, flanked by two women. The women wore the traditional robes shared by all of Everdark's servants, but the man was bedecked with armor, black and irreflective. He wore no mask or helmet, and it revealed himself to be a man in middle age, with dark hair that ran to gray at his temples.

"Elsa Siguror," he said, spreading his arms. "It is a great honor to finally meet you. You know why? You _created_ me, believe it or not. I was –"

"Yeah, I don't care. I don't have time for your little speech right now." Elsa raised Rimeheart, and she sprinted towards the wizards.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

 _You are not alone in this fight. Many will stand beside you, and every one of them will be valuable. Only through their support can you succeed._

* * *

Paris,

France

March 8th, 1844

The sun was settling into the horizon beyond the smoking buildings as Jean-Luc Pouillard watched the Seine turn an ominous blood-red. He waited, along with ten thousand soldiers and a handful of wizards, for their doom to arrive down city streets. He heard a shout, and his body tensed. His heartbeat quickened, and across the river, a young man wearing the livery of a messenger broke through the line of buildings. Several of them had been sent a half-mile into the city to warn Paris's defenders when the enemy had broken past Elsa and begun to approach. Jean-Luc didn't know whether this man's arrival meant that Elsa was dead, or merely that there were too many of them for her to overcome, but either way, they had only moments.

"They are coming!" The man cried across the stretch of water, his voice small and frantic from this distance. He stumbled, suddenly, and then collapsed to one knee, and then several bullets took him at once, each of them eliciting a small puff of red in the air.

Jean-Luc swallowed hard, and then shouted, "Arms up!"

There was a rattling in the air as thousands of rifles were raised at once. Jean-Luc lowered his cheek to the stock and sighted along the reticule on the barrel, feeling his stomach lurch as a roaring, charging mass of men in dark uniforms burst through the line of buildings, pouring from every street and alley in numbers that made it very clear how painfully outnumbered he and his men were.

"Steady!" He shouted, fighting to stir his own bravery along with that of his men's. Even so, he heard several clatters along the line as some of his soldiers dropped their weapons and ran, screaming. "Steady!"

They hit the waterline, and Everdark's forces plunged directly into the river, charging through until their knees were submerged, and then their waists, and then their chests, and then they were totally submerged in the water, wave after wave of them disappearing into the choppy surf.

Jean-Luc felt his heart hammering harder than he could ever remember it beating. _I_ _might die before any of these men are able to lay a hand on me_ , he thought. There was the crisp sound of gunfire along the line, and bullets snapped in the water. Here and there, there a blossom of red appeared, and a body floated to the surface, but most of the shots didn't find their way home.

"Hold!" Jean-Luc yelled, realizing that his arms were trembling, and he fought to get them under control. He couldn't hit the side of a house right now.

There was a horrible waiting, a span of seconds in which the only sound was the thrashing of water, and the only sight was the legions of men, or whatever the servants of Everdark were, charging into the far side of the river. Then, all at once, the water exploded outwards at their shore, and the first wave leapt onto the shoreline.

Jean-Luc didn't need to call for fire. All at once, they began to shoot, and a fell haze of blood met the air. They ripped through the first line of their enemy, the bodies forming patchwork quilt over the ground, trampled underfoot by the next wave. They fired again, and Jean-Luc forced himself to keep his eyes open, nausea rising in his throat as bodies were torn and shattered before him. But not all the advancing soldiers fell, and some hit the line of Paris's defenders, laying about with axes and other cruel weapons. The sound of his men's screaming was added to the cacophony.

Jean-Luc shot, and he shot, again and again until his rifle was spent, and then he weiled it like a spear, ramming the bayonet into the chest of one of the horrid creatures. All around him, men on both sides were cut and torn and slain, and the ground became slick with blood. Jean-Luc couldn't think, and he acted on a combination of instinct and fear, slashing and stabbing and falling back, foot by foot, as he was increasingly surrounded by enemies.

A man to Jean-Luc's left was cut down, and he let out a horrid death cry. Then the last of Jean-Luc's allies, to his right, had his head shorn from his shoulders by a stone axe. And he was alone, surrounded by three of his enemies, even as hundreds more charged onto the island behind him. Jean-Luc could hear the screams of the innocents. They'd managed to get much of Paris's population onto the tiny island, but of course they weren't able to fit them all. The refugees that had been in camps around the city had been sent into the countryside, along with women and children from the outer wards.

In this moment, Jean-Luc envied them, for they would know the sweetness of life for several days longer than he. His wife was somewhere behind him on this island, as well as his nine-year-old son. He knew, as the men around him began to close in, that his family was probably already dead. He cried out with rage and sorrow equal to everything that was being taken from him, and he charged the nearest of his enemies.

He ran his bayonet through the man's cheek, and into his head. He felt the blade break away from his rifle under the force of his strike, and saw its reddened end burst from the back of his foe's head. A sword took Jean-Luc to the side, and he felt a terrible pain. He clung to his rifle and stumbled away from the one who had cut him, clubbing at the last with the stock of weapon. He struck the man in the sternum, and his blow was sent wild; Jean-Luc hit the man again in the side of the head, feeling a grim satisfaction as his blow broke the bones in the man's temple. Then he was struck again with the sword, and this time, he knew there was no going on.

Jean-Luc fell to his knees, and he looked down to a mess of his own intestines, spilling from a pair of rends in his side. He looked up and stared into the hate-filled eyes of his enemy as the sword plunged towards his heart, and he felt the bite of the blade once more.

xxx

The horrible song of war faded in Odette's ears, and was replaced with an overwhelming silence. She tentatively opened her eyes, and saw that she and Eleshka were huddled on the marble floor of a beautiful temple. Carved pillars of masterful workmanship formed the walls of a majestic, open-air building surrounded by golden clouds and magnificent blue skies. A rectangular pool was in the center of the room, its waters calm and idyllic. Near to them, at one end of this grand hall, was a marble throne, currently unoccupied.

"Where are we?" Eleshka asked, voice fearful.

"The Sea of Stars," Odette replied softly, climbing to her feet and looking around with a mixture of shock and awe. She looked down at her hand, still closed around Ceristo's – Hythirion's – locket. So it still worked.

"I've never been a place like this before," Eleshka said. "This place feels… _strong._ "

"It's the seat of an immortal," Odette said, recognizing this place from the description that Elsa had given. "Elsa's, actually. This is the Hall of Glory."

Odette's sense of wonder was broken as Eleshka began to let out nervous, panicked sobs.

"We just left them all behind! We left them all to die! They're all gonna – they're –"

Odette reached out with her mind's eye, silently touching Eleshka's wavering lifeline and imbuing it with strength. Her shaking slowed, and she started to take deeper breaths, her panic fading away.

"Hush, Eleshka," Odette said, her mind starting to gallop ahead. She was starting to formulate a plan, but it was messy, and she wondered whether it made any sense. "There is only so much any of us can do. Not everyone is a fighter."

"But the whole reason that I didn't go with my father is that I was supposed to _help,_ " Eleshka said, her voice in her fear and discomfort bleeding into petulance.

"And you still will," Odette said softly. "The Sea is home to all of the domains of the immortals. Any being that humans worship has its domain here, somewhere."

"What are you saying?" Eleshka asked, sniffling and rubbing at her nose with the back of one of her hands.

"People on Earth have started worshipping Everdark," Odette said. "According to Elsa, the ancient Protector, Ashanerat, said that Everdark in part derives its power from the belief that people put in it."

"So…"

"So somewhere in the Sea of Stars, there's got to be Everdark's domain, right?"

"Maybe," Eleshka said. "But why do we care?"

She fixed in her mind the destination that she envisioned, and once she opened her mind to the heart of darkness, she immediately knew how to get there. It was like a great, voracious hole in the center of the Sea, threatening to drag the other domains into its gaping maw. A place of great power, and rapacious evil. Could she get there? She didn't know.

"Can you feel Everdark's center of power?"

"Yes," Eleshka said. "This is an old wound in the Sea of Stars, and it has grown accustomed to it. It no longer hurts the way that it once did."

Odette figured that if they both had a good mental image of the heart of darkness, they could probably get there.

"Excellent. That's exactly where we're going," Odette said, closing her eyes and drawing upon her magic.

"What?" Eleshka said, her voice jumping with fright. She grasped at Odette's arm. "No, Odette, we'll die!"

Somewhere deep inside, Odette appreciated the irony of this situation. She had once been as meek and timid as Eleshka, perhaps even more so. But the trials of their existence for the last two years had expunged weakness from her, and now she gave the thought of such danger little thought. This was, she knew intrinsically, what she was meant to do. The Mender was created to repair broken bonds, and what could be more broken than a tear in the essence of the Sea of Stars itself?

Odette glanced at Eleshka, and her resolve softened momentarily. Though Odette had a strong suspicion that Eleshka would be very useful to her if she were also present at the heart of darkness, admittedly she couldn't exactly see how right here. Eleshka was a child, wrapped up largely by accident in a fight that had grown far beyond her. She couldn't take Eleshka to Arborea and her father, because it lay in the far reaches of the Sea of Stars, beyond the distance that she could reach with an ordinary portal. But… perhaps it was safe here?

"You don't have to come with me, Eleshka. If you like, you can stay here. I can't promise you that it will be entirely safe here, but it's certainly less dangerous than what will come ahead."

Eleshka's eyes were fraught with conflict. Odette watched her carefully, unsure if she should say anything to try to sway the girl one way or another. Seconds crawled by in which the only sound came from a gentle whistling of the wind as it filtered through the columns of the Hall.

"I want to go with you," Eleshka eventually said, sounding nearly surprised. "I'm seeing this through to the end."

Odette nodded and smiled softly. "Let's hope that end is farther away than it seems."

She took Eleshka's hand once more and closed her eyes, opening herself to the magic energies that bound the planes together. She saw her own lifeline, which she shared with Elsa, and it was still strong and vibrant. This filled her with confidence, as it meant that Elsa was still alive and well in Paris. Next to hers was Eleshka's lifeline, also glowing bright white. Odette grasped them both in her mind's eye, and she focused on their destination. The heart of darkness was spatially distant, but in the realm of soul and spirit that their lifelines existed in, it was only a thought away. She bent them towards it, and felt her body lurch as it fell into the arcane space.

In a heartbeat, they were gone.

xxx

Hans peered out of the alleyway towards the field of rubble where the Arc de Triomphe had once stood. A yawning portal had taken its place, a rippling purple energy field through which their enemy had poured. The circular clearing around it was far from empty, however. It seemed that their enemies had were using this place as mobile command, and in the space of an hour or so since they had invaded the city, two large tents had been constructed on opposite sides of the area. Perhaps a thousand men lingered here, crossing between the tents or staking a watch on the portal.

Hans ducked back into the alley to be free of their gaze and nodded to Kariena.

"Yeah, there's about as many as you expected. Perhaps a thousand."

"Well, we knew this wasn't going to be easy," Kariena said. "But that's why we have a brilliant plan, right?"

Hans raised an eyebrow.

"We have a plan?" Thomas asked hopefully.

Hans looked at him.

"I was hoping that maybe Hans had thought of something on the way over," Kariena said.

"We aren't really the 'planning' type, Kariena," Hans said.

"We need a distraction," the meek witch said. Her name was Stella.

Hans frowned. If only Elsa were here. She was excellent at creating distractions.

"We don't need all of their attention," Thomas said. "Just the ones in our path. Just enough that there's a straight line to the portal."

He stood up from his crouch.

"Right…" Kariena said, frowning. "But we also shouldn't do something that recklessly endangers any of us."

"No," Thomas said, a noble decision shining in his eyes. "You and Hans are many times stronger than I will ever be. Each of you has the power to end this. It will be an honor to serve my empire in this moment."

Then Thomas charged through the alleyway and into the open.

"Thomas, no!" Hans shouted, sprinting after him, but Thomas was already ten yards into the line of the enemy, blazing with arcane energy as he sent radiant spears of light flying at the hostile soldiers.

They converged on him like a beacon, and Hans saw, to his amazement, a straight path, right down the middle of the ruined street, open between him and the gateway to Hell. He felt a horrible wrenching in his stomach, but he turned his path straight again and ran towards the portal. A lone enemy noticed his approach and turned to fight, and Hans cut his head off without breaking stride. Then Kariena was beside him, and Stella was behind her, and they were all at the threshold of the portal.

Hans glanced over his shoulder one last time, and he saw Thomas, blazing with light, collapse to one knee as he took a sword blow to the back of one of his legs. He continued to strike his enemies down with flash after flash of searing light, and then another sword fell, separating his head from his shoulders, and the light died. Hans closed his eyes.

"Hans! Come on!" Kariena yelled, and Hans turned to follow her into Hell.

xxx

"My name is Edouard Mercier," the silver-haired wizard said as he stepped backwards and the furies to either side of him stepped forwards to engage Elsa. "My soul was banished to Hell many years ago as the result of my daughter's tampering with death."

Rimeheart clashed with two swords of gleaming steel, and then Elsa swept a wave of ice into the furies and then pressed her advantage as they were battered backwards, slashing at them with deft, precise cuts that took great skill to parry. There was no more time for anything but her best.

"But your father defeated my daughter on the very day that she managed to bind Everdark to this world again, and on that day, Everdark traveled to Hell in the Sea of Stars."

One of the witches raised a hand and the cobblestones around her erupted and flung themselves at Elsa in the form of a million tiny shards. With a thought, Elsa stopped them in midair, and then she sent a gust of cold wind at the witch, and they hurtled back into her, slashing at her skin.

"The God of Darkness was interested in rewarding us for sacrificing our earthly bodies to help ensure its return. It offered us great power, and the only price was singular devotion."

Elsa roared as she flipped Rimeheart around and extended both of her hands to her enemies. Ice burst from the arcana around them, surging upwards to entrap their legs. The other fury's face contorted with strain as her pace slowed to a crawl. Her body began to glow with multicolored energy as she drew upon her magic, and then a radial disk of heat expanded from her, burning away the flurry. She dashed the rest of the way to Elsa and launched a violent offensive. Their blades met with a might boom, and then a flurry of exchanges began.

Dark shadows of vaguely humanoid form sprung to life around Mercier and his remaining bodyguard, and they extended withered, wretched limbs to clutch the wizards and lift them to the sky, pulling them free of Elsa's onslaught. The specters lowered them again, and the second witch joined the fight. Mercier dusted snowflakes off of his shoulder and began to speak again.

"Everdark expressed regret that my daughter had not survived the ritual of re-binding. It considered her an unfortunate loss. But I no longer cared for the child who had murdered me and my son. So Everdark found it a fitting reward to my sacrifice to imbue me with the same magics that my daughter had used to perform her dark arts. Now _I_ am the necromancer."

The cobblestones around Elsa exploded, slashing her body with shrapnel. Undead burst free from the street, dozens of them clawing their way over each other's rotted forms to grasp and claw at her. Elsa tried to sweep her arm and send a wave of ice through the zombies, but a pair of them managed to clasp it and restrain her, and another sunk horrid, yellowed teeth into her flesh. She cried out in pain and shock, and instinctively swirling blades of ice appeared around her, shearing through the writhing forms and clearing ground in a small radius around her.

Severed arms and the head and torso of one of the zombies hit the ground inside her wards, still wriggling. Elsa realized that she'd lost hold of Rimeheart, and she held out her hand. The sword spiraled off of the ground and tore through an arc of the undead creatures before its hilt landed solidly in her hand. Elsa looked at her left arm, and saw that the bite wound wasn't as bad as it had initially felt.

She'd picked up a few other cuts and bruises throughout the fighting so far, but nothing unmanageable. She could keep fighting for quite some time. On some level, however, she knew that wasn't enough. Thousands upon thousands of their enemies had swarmed past her, and by now they would already have reached the Notre Dame. Elsa realized that she was failing in her duty, engaged with these wizards on this street near the center of the city. If there was _anyone_ left alive on the Île de la Cité, it was her responsibility to save them.

"Enough!" Elsa cried out, slamming Rimeheart into the earth.

A crack appeared in the street, rippling down towards where the enemy wizards stood, and then bursting forth with shards of ice. The zombies around her were torn to pieces, and the wizards ducked away from the slashing projectiles. Elsa turned and sprinted several steps before a track of ice picked up beneath her, and then she slid ten feet into the air, and then another ten, and then she was above the rooftops. She swept her gaze around, and saw the burning spires of the Notre Dame many streets away.

"You cannot run from this fight, Elsa!" Mercier called after her, but Elsa wasn't listening.

One of the furies sent a bolt of energy after her, but she was already too far to away to be hit, gaining speed with each new step. There was an uncountable number of hostile soldiers on and around that island, and there was sure to be many more wizards there, too. And if Everdark was here, she knew that at some point, she would have to face it again, too, without Hans to aid her.

 _Was this how you felt, Ashanerat? When you considered giving up hope? Because I don't think I'm making it out of this one alive._

xxx

Arno Belgold Montaigne stood on a window balcony at Versailles, gazing upon the road that led from the palace to Paris. The sun was blood-red as it touched the horizon, turning the fields of golden grasses a sanguine color that served as an uncomfortable reminder of the bloody days, during the height of the French Revolution, when he had to watch the gutters of his home run with the blood of nobility. He had been a poor boy, a late child in a large family, and his father and mother had told him each day of the great fortune that awaited them under the new regime.

But all he could recall were the endless streams of executions, burned into the backs of his eyelids.

Those days were a long, long time past; sometimes, Montaigne wondered how he had gotten to be so old, that memories from his own life seemed foreign and unfamiliar. His life was so far gone, so far departed, from that of the poor French boy. Today, however, was a day that reminded him of the revolution.

Silhouetted against the horizon was a legion of dark forms, marching in the street and through the fields, so numerous were they that they could not be confined to its width. They were close enough now that he could hear the advancing army's footfalls, like a slow, steady thunder. He did not want to think about the implications of such a large force approaching Versailles unmolested, because to him it seemed to imply that Elsa and Hans had been defeated in Paris.

Or if they were still fighting, Everdark had managed to field truly overwhelming forces.

"Montaigne." Anna's voice broke him from his pessimistic thoughts.

"You should be gone already, miss," Montaigne said, glancing over his shoulder at the empress.

He still felt a terrible, crushing guilt at the horrid thought that he had been an unwitting co-conspirator in her recent imprisonment, but against all odds, she managed to look as regal and powerful as she ever had, standing on the threshold of the balcony. He knew that he would take the guilt with him to his grave, but also he didn't expect to live out the night. She glanced past him, at the oncoming army. Much of the palace had already been evacuated, but there was nowhere to go. They were fleeing to the southeast, to Rambouillet, because a portal had never been established there and so theoretically, it was safe from Everdark for the time being, but many of them realized that there was no real point to running.

Why prolong a life that would only be whiled out waiting in fear?

Anna shook her head. "Either my sister and the others find a way to save us, or we die. We might not die tonight if we run, but we would inevitably face the same fate. I have no will to run."

"Not even for your child?" Montaigne said, feeling a great sadness at the thought that young Michael would be snatched so cruelly away from a world he had never even gotten to experience.

"He was sent away with the wet nurses," Anna said softly. "I can't bring myself to leave."

"Neither can I," Montaigne replied as he turned back to gaze out at the advancing army. They were closer now, close enough that he could make out the faint forest of pikes rising above the heads of the enemy.

Anna leaned against the balcony beside him, the dying light casting an orange glow on her face and evoking a molten light in her eyes.

"It was a beautiful dream," she said softly. "A world united, standing hand in hand before an unstoppable enemy and saying, 'no.' You are the unwavering force, but we are the unbreakable mountain. By the force of our virtue and the strength of our conviction, we will prevail. A unified empire."

Montaigne realized that he had begun to cry. "Yes, it was," he said. "A beautiful dream."


	37. Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

 _I do not know if anyone will ever find this monolith of stone upon which I have inscribed all of my advice and wisdom. There would be a certain irony to it fading into antiquity forever, the final defeat in my inauspicious career._

* * *

Hell

March 8th, 1844

A purple sky, dark with boiling clouds, loomed over a barren, desolate place. The land was cracked with drought, stretching as far as the eye roamed in every direction like the cobblestones of some massive highway. There was no feature which disturbed the monotony of this place, save for jagged peaks which rose from the horizon, constantly belching lava into the basin, and an impossibly straight, calm river, which divided the ground directly before them. The land was not empty, however; it was densely populated with roving bands of white, semi-translucent specters, floating aimlessly this way and that. Ghastly chains hung from their forms, dragging across the dead earth behind them with a haunting, cacophonous rattling. Damned souls.

Hans glanced over his shoulder and saw the rippling portal which led back to earth. It seemed that they had not been detected by their enemies yet; they were spreading out to the alleyways now, hounding the streets to make sure that Thomas hadn't had any allies waiting to spring out of the shadows.

"Come on," Hans said, beckoning for Kariena and Stella to follow him. "Let's get away from the portal."

Hans cast his gaze to either end of the river, and realized that he'd been wrong in thinking the landscape identical. The river ran north to south, and in the far distance to the north, on the horizon, he saw a blazing black beacon shooting into the sky. Hans pointed towards it.

"Well, I'm willing to bet that that's where we want to go," he said.

He heard Stella murmur a soft prayer. Before they could start off along the river, a sloop appeared at the shoreline. In the eerie way that things happened in this place, Hans could not recall seeing the thing approach, and yet now that it was here, he had the distinct sense that it had always been known to him. Aboard the sloop was a startlingly tall figure in a black cloak, its face cast into shadow by its hood.

It extended a skeletal hand towards them, palm-up.

"The last time, I had coins to give it," Hans said, reaching into his pocket. He was unsurprised to find that once again, he had the creature's fare. Kariena and Stella mimed him, and they all gave the creature the coins that they magically seemed to have been carrying.

Then they stepped onto the sloop, and it silently poled them away from the shoreline. For an indiscernible time, they moved towards the temple in silence. Hans felt a powerful déjà vu throughout the experience; it was exactly the same as it had been before, when he first visited hell. The moments whiled themselves away, neither short nor long, and eventually Hades's temple was in front of them, though it did not seem as if they had ever truly approached it.

"What the hell are we doing," Kariena murmured nervously.

Hans grinned, and glanced over his shoulder at her as the yawning portal into the temple approached, and then began to pass overhead.

"Come on, this was your idea."

In fact, as the world around them faded away and was replaced by torchlit walls carved with lurid reliefs, Hans felt nervous. He had not been to Hades's temple for a long time, in fact not since several months before the old master of the Underworld had been killed. He did not know what awaited them.

Ahead some way down the canal that split the building, the flickering glow outlined a room. Hans could not see inside, but he knew that this was the embalming chamber where he'd had his heart removed by the servants of Hades. He checked the safety on his pistols, spinning the chamber in each of them to make sure they were loaded. Kariena drew her knives, and Stella's hands began to glow with sparks.

Their skeletal guide brought them to a gentle stop against the stone pier that led into the chamber, and they stepped through the portal into the room beyond. There were three humanoid figures waiting for them, wearing dark cloaks and glimmering, faceless masks. Each of them held two curved blades at their sides, silent and motionless, almost as if they were statues. They had once been servants of Hades, and Hans wondered if they could be reasoned with.

"Hey, guys," he said as nonchalantly as possible. "Remember me? I certainly remember all of you –"

All at once, the wraith-like creatures charged them. Hans swore and fired several shots into their twisting forms, becoming insubstantial just as the first slung its blades through the place he had just been. Kariena engaged with another, ducking under and around its swords and slashing at it with her daggers, while Stella screamed and sent arcing bolts of electricity through the air into the last. Hans phased in with his swords drawn, and he ran the nearest creature through on one of his blades. It passed through the dark cloak with no resistance, and then the wraith slashed one of Hans's legs with its sickle, apparently unharmed by his attack.

Hans backpedaled, suddenly on the defensive against a blazingly fast assault from the masked figure in front of him. His leg screamed with pain, but it supported his wait and he couldn't risk hazarding a glance at it. Kariena was also on the defensive against her own wraith, and Hans couldn't tell how Stella was faring; his attention was singularly concentrated on staying alive. It was growing bolder as Hans was forced closer and closer to the wall, its swings becoming more powerful, but less precise. It brought both of its blades down at Hans from above, giving Hans the opening that he needed.

He twisted his right arm and caught both of the wraith's swords on his own, his arm instantly threatening to buckle under the brutal force. He roared with strain as he brought his other sword around and rammed it into the creature's mask. It sundered inwards and then collapsed, exploding with a brilliant light. Its swords clattered to the ground at Hans's feet.

"Go for the masks!" He yelled, whirling around to see that Kariena disappear in a flash of light, popping back into existence just behind Stella's wraith, which towered over her wounded frame at the far end of the room.

Kariena's knives flashed, and the creature's head was severed from the rest of its body; it tumbled through the air for a moment before a knife split it in two. The last specter dove for Hans, plunging both of its blades towards his chest. He attempted to roll, but his wounded leg buckled and he collapsed to the ground instead. He rolled along the ground immediately, and was showered with sparks as one of its blades struck the stone floor. Now on his back, he threw one of his swords at the creature as it stood over him, but he missed, and it passed directly through the creature's insubstantial form.

It raised its swords to strike him down, but then it was struck by a bolt of lightning. It turned, and another took it directly in the mask, destroying it with a final screech. The room was eerily silent after the last wraith's weapons hit the floor. Hans looked at his leg. It had been slashed down the side, and a narrow cut, perhaps half an inch deep and slightly behind his knee, had been drawn. It was bleeding badly, and he thought that one of the tendons in the back of his knee might have been broken.

Hans dragged himself to his feet, and looked over at Kariena and Stella. Stella was slumped against the wall, a bloodstained rag now wrapped around her left arm; Kariena was missing a sleeve. She glanced over at Hans and frowned.

"Guess I'll be losing the other sleeve, too, then."

Hans part-smirked, part-winced. "At least you'll look rugged and adventurous."

He wasn't sure that Kariena would have time to bandage him as well, but things remained quiet as she wrapped her other sleeve around his knee and bound it tight. Whatever horrors awaited them deeper in the temple, they seemed content to allow Hans and the others come to them.

"This is just going to get worse, isn't it?" Stella asked as he stood and rubbed at her arm.

Hans nodded to Kariena as she finished knotting the bandage. "It's tight," he said, and then he glanced back at Stella. "I don't know. The entire time that I served Hades, I only ever saw three of these things, and nothing else living to speak of in this temple."

 _At least, no one that hasn't been killed._

"So, maybe, maybe not. But there's only one way to find out."

xxx

The world that materialized around Odette was one of fire and brimstone. She and Eleshka emerged onto a porous, maroon rock perhaps ten feet to a side, floating amidst an entire field of similar stones. They rotated slightly as they moved through air thick with swirling embers. Odette lost all her sense of direction, and an overpowering sense of vertigo forced her to her knees.

"Lost Immortals," Eleshka moaned. "This is a horrible place."

Another of the asteroid-like stones collided with theirs, and Eleshka too was thrown from her feet as they picked up speed and began to tumble in another direction.

"Grab on to something!" Odette cried out as the stone rolled. She worked both of her hands into the volcanic holes dotting the surface of the stone, wincing as the rough stone bit into her flesh.

Eleshka did the same, and they hung upside-down for a sickening moment before righting themselves again. Before the stone could turn over again, it ran up against a wide stone platform that emerged, seemingly from nowhere, through the field of fire. A small hut was constructed on this platform, crafted somewhat crudely of clay. Odette stumbled off of the asteroid, Eleshka shortly after her.

 _What the hell?_ Odette thought.

Around this strange platform in the center of this horrid place, the air was clearer. It was quiet, too, as if somehow the collisions from the air around them did not make it this far. The hut had an entrance without a door, open and facing them. The interior was cast into shadow, but it seemed to call upon her, drawing her inwards.

Odette slowly stood and made her way to the dark portal.

" _Odette_ ," Eleshka said urgently.

Odette stepped over the threshold, breath catching in her chest. She entered into the gloom, and saw a dusty floor, empty save for a small amulet set on the floor. It was set into a fine chain, and the stone was dark and clear. It looked exactly like the one that she and Elsa had found in Ceristo Siguror's tomb, or the one that Everdark's forces had uncovered in Egypt. Perhaps it _was_ that locket?

Eleshka appeared in the doorway behind her. "Odette?"

"I've seen this locket before," she said, kneeling down and picking it up off of the floor. The chain was cool against her skin.

 _Why does Everdark need it here, of all places?_

Odette had the distinct suspicion that she was missing something.

"What is it?" Eleshka asked.

"The Mender who came before me made two of these lockets," she said. "One of them, Elsa and I now own. It ended up with one of her ancestors."

"How?" Eleshka asked.

"I'm not sure," Odette realized. "He had a vulture's head as a funerary mask, so we figured that he was a worshipper of Everdark. But… now that I think about it, I'm not sure that makes any sense. How _did_ these end up getting associated with Everdark?"

Eleshka knelt beside Odette. She tentatively reached out to touch the amulet. When her fingers brushed against the jet, she recoiled. Odette immediately, viscerally recalled the sickness that she had felt the first time she touched Ceristo's amulet, and she immediately placed a hand against Eleshka, flooding her with a bit of magic to burn away the nausea.

"Sorry, I forgot to warn you," Odette said. "It's a bit of an ugly surprise."

Eleshka groaned, and then laughed once. "Boy, I'm starting to regret deciding to come with you guys."

Odette laughed as well. "Yeah, our lives are basically shit. You were out of your mind."

 _How is this all connected?_ Odette thought. She felt distinctly that if she could only figure out the reason that these amulets seemed to be inexplicably interwoven with Everdark as well, she could somehow earn them a powerful advantage.

"I don't often get visitors here," a powerful voice spoke from the doorway to the hut. "But I do think that it's about time we meet face-to-face, Mender."

xxx

Elsa landed lightly on top of one of the towers at the front of the Notre Dame. Smoke coiled up in plumes from the narthex below her, and she could hear horrid screams from the ground level as Everdark's minions swarmed into the church to slaughter its occupants. Elsa turned her gaze directly to the pair of airborne wizards flying a dozen or so yards away at the other end of the church, hurling fiery tar onto the building to contribute to the blaze. They noticed her and immediately began to sweep in her direction, and Elsa turned to leap off of the tower.

She plummeted towards the ground, and threw Rimeheart ahead of herself. It plunged into the stone of the porch, and in a small radius around the blade, ice swept outwards and froze the advancing soldiers solid. Ten feet above the ground, a small track of ice appeared, curling into the church itself, and Elsa landed upon it, slinging herself through the destroyed portal at high speed.

Elsa curled over a swarm of enemy soldiers, then over a failing barricade of sandbags, and the diminishing soldiers and innocents beyond it, to land in a lithe crouch in the center of the atrium. She raised her hand, and Rimeheart spun through a crowd of her enemies, taking their heads from their bodies and then hurtling into her hand, landing with a satisfying weight. She threw out a hand as some of Everdark's men started to push through the barricade, and a wall of icy wind blasted them back, sending tumbling bodies into a mound inside the burning narthex.

Two of the multi-story, stained-glass windows that flanked the atrium exploded inwards, showering rainbows of glass on the ground and earning screams from the huddled women and children. The two flying wizards burst into the church, and one of them immediately threw a great spear at Elsa. She twisted aside and it struck the ground next to her, plunging through the floor and slashing her legs and back with shrapnel. She shot a few icicles at each of them, struggling to keep them both in her field of vision as they swirled through the air fifty feet above her.

One of her icy bolts tore through the swirling cloak that hung far beyond one of the wizard's feet, and he tumbled in the air. Elsa turned to finish him off, but lost her focus as she was suddenly ensconced in swirling darkness. It felt as if a thousand knives pierced her flesh at once, and she cried out with shock and pain. Ice coated her skin and then pushed outwards, forcing the nightmarish specters backwards. She whirled to see Mercier and his pair of furies striding past the barricade, the last soldiers lying in pools of their own blood on the floor. The women and children left alive huddled around the walls of the church, screaming with terror.

"You're doomed, Protector," Mercier said, his voice arrogant and callous. "You may have been able to slip through Novendon's fingers at the Worldgate, but now you have nowhere to run."

Both of the flying wizards dove towards Elsa, the one who had thrown his spear taking another from a bandolier on his back. They plunged their weapons for her heart at the same time. Elsa threw her hands out, and a dome of ice appeared around her. Their spears struck the translucent barrier and with resounding _cracks,_ and spiderwebbed fractures appeared along it. They wound back and struck again, and then again. The witches flanking Mercier charged her, and then Elsa's own shadow sprung to live and wrapped chill hands around her neck.

Mercier clenched his fist, and her shadow's grip tightened. She could not move, lest her concentration on the barrier surrounding her fail, but Mercier's shade was crushing the life out of her. The witches reached the barrier and began to pound it with their own weapons. The cracks continued to form, and Elsa started to panic. There wasn't any way out of this. Irrational thoughts flitted through her oxygen-deprived brain, totally unrelated to the situation.

Images of herself and Anna, rolling a snowman in the foyer of the old castle at Arendelle, long since burned. Christmas Day a year and a half ago, when she'd nearly kissed Odette for the first time. The dream she'd had, where the Lord of the Immortals, the one that humanity revered as God, had spoken to her.

He'd told her that she would sacrifice herself.

Maybe now was that moment.

Maybe…

Elsa's vision grew black, and she fell to her knees. Her barrier was near to faltering, and the magic coursing through her veins grew weak. She wondered if Anna was still alive. How much longer she would live. She wished that she could gaze into Odette's beautiful eyes, one last time. She hoped that by giving her life, she would finally do her duty as Protector.

As she faded towards unconsciousness in this moment spun onto eternity, a thought nagged at the peace that lulled her towards sleep. This wasn't a sacrifice. If she died here, these people would not live. They would follow her, in heartbeats. The slaughter would continue with renewed vigor, that a symbol of hope for humanity had failed. Everdark would win.

This was no way to die.

xxx

Elsa's vision went black, and then she opened her eyes. She was… somewhere else. Sitting in a cave. She heard the sound of dripping water, from somewhere deeper in the cavern. She looked around herself. She was in a small chamber that seemed to serve as someone's bedroom. It was not devoid of material comforts; a curtain of animal skins hung across the opening, and a quilted rug formed a sort of bedroll across from her. She was sitting on a small wooden stool.

Then she heard a high-pitched _chink._ Then another. Frowning, she stood and drew back the room's curtain. She saw a familiar-looking elderly woman sitting on another stool, this one positioned in front of a tall, stone monolith, in the chamber that lay beyond this room. She held a hammer and a piton with weather-beaten hands, and as Elsa watched she adjusted her grip on them each and etched a new line into the slab. Curious, Elsa stepped into the chamber, taking care to keep quiet, so as not to disturb the woman's concentration. She paced around until she could peer over the woman's shoulder, and now she saw that a dense wall of cuneiform text covered its surface.

 _This is the Keeper's Stele,_ she realized. It was being made, right before her eyes. Her gaze turned back to the elderly woman. _That that… that's…_

"I find this work soothing," Ashanerat said. "It is calm, and repetitive, and slow enough that I have plenty of time to think about what I will say. In fact I _must_ be deliberate, because if I start a sentence, only to find later that I am displeased with what I have written, then I have little recourse to alter it."

She turned and fixed piercing, perceptive eyes on Elsa. "It is good to finally see you with my own eyes, Protector. I have waited a very long time for this."

"What's happening?" Elsa asked. Fright boiled into her voice as she said, "Did I die?"  
"Not yet," Ashanerat replied. "Though you are closer to death than you have ever been before, I would suspect. Brains do strange things in the moments before they cease to function, and somehow yours has constructed this."

"But how am I still alive, long enough to have this conversation with you?" Elsa asked. Surely, Mercier's shade should have strangulated her by now.

"You tell me," Ashanerat said. " _I_ have no idea what your particular capabilities are, Protector."

"I…" Elsa said, frowning and thinking about it. As she did, she realized that her brain was still frantic, as if the panic from her fight didn't fade away just because her surroundings did. "I stopped time."

Ashanerat raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."

"Well, it's sort of new," Elsa replied. "I haven't been doing it that long."

"So, Protector. Tell me why you are here."

Elsa shook her head. "I have no idea. _I_ didn't do this, whatever it is."

Ashanerat tapped at her chin. "Well, perhaps it is the will of the gods. Or perhaps aid came from somewhere else entirely."

Elsa could think of no one who could have intervened on her behalf, but she realized that perhaps she could make something of this.

"Well, as long as I'm here, wherever _here_ is, perhaps you can answer some questions for me. How did you defeat Everdark?"

She had learned in some of her visions of the past that the Consulate of Celestus had planned to perform an arcane ritual to trap Everdark somewhere it could not harm the world, but she had no idea if this ended up actually being successful.

"We did not defeat Everdark," Ashanerat said, voice shameful. "One of my companions, a powerful wizard named Circu, was able, with our assistance, to bind the Dark God in a demiplane in the realm of the Immortals. Our bonds could hold it for only so long, however, and in time, as you well know, its strength overcame ours, and it was released into your world again."

"Its realm is in the Sea of Stars?" Elsa asked. "Why didn't the other immortals just kill it when it was weakened?"

Ashanerat shook her head. "It is doubtful that they could. Everdark was not weakened by our ritual, only confined. You might think of it like this: we put the God of Darkness in a very complicated maze, one that it could not possibly ever solve. Eventually, it was able to exploit enough weaknesses in our maze to break through the walls."

 _It had assistance from a powerful necromancer as well._

"Alright, how am I _supposed_ to beat Everdark?" Elsa asked, fearing that she knew what the answer would be.

"I am unsure that such a thing is possible," Ashanerat said. "I had hoped that my predecessor would be the beneficiary of millennia of learning that I did not have access to."

Elsa shook her head. "Once Celestus fell, the world no longer celebrated magic. When the Dark Ages came, all of your knowledge was lost. We have nothing."

"In that case, I don't know that I can offer you hope, Protector."

"But then why am I here?" Elsa asked. Against her intention, annoyance crept into her voice. "You don't have anything to teach me that could help? You just think that I should give up? What the hell happened to your oaths?"

Ashanerat looked as if she had been physically struck, but Elsa found it hard to feel remorse through her overwhelming, incendiary frustration.

Ashanerat's voice rose as she replied. "I was never a good Protector. My career was riddled with failure. Why do you think that I've spent decades in this cave, carving a record of my regrets into this stone? You were supposed to be better than me!"

"I _am_ better than you!" Elsa shouted. "Better than you could ever hope to be! If I have to do this myself, then so be it!"

Elsa stormed from the cave without another glance at the broken woman who had preceeded her. She expected to weave her way through tunnels as she left the cave, but to her surprise, she rounded only one corner before she stepped into brilliant sunshine. She looked around, startled to find that she stood in the Hall of Glory, her own domain in the Sea of Stars. Sunlight streamed down upon her through golden clouds, reflecting an injured, war-weary woman back at her.

Elsa stared at her own reflection. Her face was smudged with ash and blood, and her clothing was torn in places where she'd been slashed. Her hair was ragged in places where it had been burned with confrontation with a pyromancer earlier in the day, and her neck was black and bruised from being strangled. But despite all of this, her back was straight. She stood tall and proud, even now.

Especially now.

She looked back, to the cave that she had left, and wasn't surprised to find that it was no longer there. Somewhere inside, she knew that none of this was really happening. She was lost in her own mind, frozen in time on the floor of the Notre Dame, stretching out the moments in which her life slipped away. But she felt a powerful freedom, something liberating like a new dawn after a long night.

She had spent so long looking to the past for answers, when in truth, there wasn't any there. Elsa wasn't going to win her battles by walking the same path as Ashanerat, and there had never been a silver bullet that was going to defeat their dark enemy.

But she wasn't helpless. Elsa had no idea where Hans, or Odette, or Kariena, or Eleshka, or even her sister were. She didn't even know how many of them were still alive. But they had fought with her, laid down their lives with her, and they would continue to do so until they could not any more. Ashanerat may not have proven to be her ally, but Elsa was not alone.

And as long as her friends continued to fight, then so would she. Elsa reached inside of herself and let loose the inner blizzard. Her vision warped, and then the Hall of Glory faded away around her. Time unspooled, and she re-entered the world with a flash of light.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Four

Author's Note:

Surprise upload a day early because I'll be busy tomorrow, and a Happy Fourth to all the American readers!

xxx

Chapter Thirty-Four

 _You will face startling loss. It will threaten to overwhelm you._

* * *

Hell

March 8th, 1844

Hans, Kariena, and Stella left the staircase behind and stepped into a darkened hallway. Hans held the torch that he had retrieved from one of the rooms upstairs aloft, casting a flickering glow onto gilded walls. Bas-reliefs depicting scenes of mutilation and torture covered them, except where they were set with alcoves at intervals of a few feet. Hans began to walk, moving the torch to peer into one of the alcoves.

Inside was a desiccated human head, mummified but not wrapped with funerary linen. Empty eye sockets glared back at him, the head's jaw agape in a foul expression. Below it was a small metal plate with a name inscribed on it: _Sakina, the Recorder._ The name meant nothing to him.

"Pretty sure these decorations are new," Hans murmured back to his companions, keeping his voice low.

"Where are we going?" Stella asked fearfully.

Hans picked up the pace slightly, and his companions did in turn, keeping pace with him as they padded along the hallway deep in Hades's ancient temple. They were headed for a particular room, based largely on a hunch.

"There is a room in this temple," Hans said, "that Hades only showed me once. Inside is a shrine, essentially, to Everdark. If anywhere in this place is its center of power, then that would probably be it."

Though there was no outward change in their surroundings, Hans found his breath coming quicker, and his chest began to feel tight, as if something heavy was pressed down upon it. They were getting close. The dark energy grew stronger with every step they took towards the room, eventually becoming sickening. Hans heard Stella and even Kariena moan softly behind him.

They came to the doorway of the chamber, in this strange, museum-like section of the temple, and Hans stepped inside. His torch lent an unearthly glow to the aberrant form standing proudly on the pedestal in the center of the room, dark wings spread wide overhead. Stella gasped, and Kariena's face paled. Hans looked around the rest of the chamber. He could just make out the walls in dim shadow, as well as the faint orange gleam of the ancient weapons that hung from them.

"Why would Hades keep a place like this in his temple?" Kariena wondered as they followed him inside.

"I wondered that, too," Hans said. "I guess that he felt a certain amount of grudging respect for the Master of the Underworld that came before him. He was certainly afraid of Everdark; perhaps he kept this place to remind himself of its dark power. Or maybe he had another reason."

"Which brings me to the other question," Kariena said. "How on earth is a statue emitting dark magic?"

Hans glanced back at her. "It isn't, if my hunch is correct."

He stepped up onto the pedestal itself. The stat that rose before him was eerily life-like, accurate to the individual, dark feathers that covered Everdark's wings, and the taut, powerful muscles in its abdomen and chest. The texture was eerily perfect, too; Hans was quite sure that if he reached out to touch it, he would feel skin, or feather, or fur, indiscernible from that of a living creature. Hans reached to his boot and drew a large knife. He considered the statue for a moment, and then plunged his knife into its chest.

Immediately, dark, ocherous blood welled up around the hilt of his knife, threatening to stain his hands.

"Jesus," Kariena said softly.

Hans adjusted his grip to start dragging the knife down the statue's chest to open a cavity when the sound of footsteps in the hallway beyond stopped him.

"Shit," Hans said, letting go of the knife and turning towards the doorway just as two forms appeared in it.

One quite tall, stripped of all flesh with a ghastly, skeletal blue skull crowned with flames, and the other a rotting, zombified corpse that was still identifiable as his tutor in magic, Marina Blackheart. Hans felt his stomach turn, and for a moment he found himself quite unable to move, to think, even to breathe.

He waited for Hades or Lady Blackheart to speak. To say something that identified themselves as more than just undead slaves of Everdark. But they did not speak. They both moved at once, raising their hands to flood the room with magic.

"No!" Hans yelled.

What happened next occurred in such a blitz that he was hardly able to comprehend it all. Kariena disappeared in a flash of purple-and-blue light, and then something hit his chest, and he fell backwards. Instinctively, he phased through the statue as he fell, landing roughly on the floor behind it. The floor filled with black fire, unlike anything he had ever seen before. It parted around the statue, incinerating iron weapons hung from the walls and scorching the stone deep black. Hans heard Stella screaming, a horrible, tortured scream, and he felt fear for the first time in a long while.

Nightmarish creatures of shadow were visible in the fire, and they roared and screamed as the fire raged around the room, their voices a haunting threnody that lasted barely more than a heartbeat. The fire stopped, and the room was still again. Hans felt hands drag him into an upright position, sitting with his back to the pedestal, dazed and horrified. Kariena knelt in front of him.

"Hans, this is not the fucking time," she said, voice panicked.

Hans heard footsteps as the horrible creatures that had once been his friends swept into the room.

"Hans, you need to fight with me," Kariena said. "Get the fuck up!"

Her words jolted him back to the moment, and he stood up, drawing his swords and setting his jaw. This was just one more fight. Just two more bad guys to deal with. No different from the dozens of other wizards that he had killed in their war against darkness.

"We need to stay together," he said. "We'll deal with the woman first."

Kariena nodded, and then there was no more time. She teleported, and then Hans rolled out from behind the statue, his swords held out to his sides. He came up in a crouch and immediately slashed at the legs of the zombie before him. One of his swords took it through the ankle, and then he saw the gleaming little tips of two knives burst through the front of its chest. The stench of rot and death was nearly overpowering.

He hazarded a glance towards the front of the room and saw a pile of bones crumpled in a heap near the doorway, stripped of their flesh by the unholy fire. Stella was gone.

Hans brought his other sword around to strike it again, but it remained standing even without one of its feet. Dark energy seemed to hold it aloft, and that same energy caught his sword an inch before it met Lady Blackheart's dead flesh. Hans felt a rend as something tore at his heart, threatening to separate his very soul from his body. Kariena tore her knives from its back and stabbed it again, and again, and again, seemingly to no avail. The creature turned its rotted head towards him and fixed hollow empty eye-sockets on him.

"Aaarrggghh!" Hans cried out, dropping one of his swords and clutching at his chest. He had never known pain like this before. It was as if his very heart was being flayed.

The creature that had once been Hades rounded Everdark's statue and raised its hands. Hans went insubstantial and Kariena teleported away as another torrent of fire swept through their half of the room. Hans saw it rage around him and _through_ him, the flames igniting Lady Blackheart's skin. And yet still she stood, and slowly clenched a burning hand as she stared at him, and the tearing in his chest doubled.

He fell to a knee, roaring with pain. His body threatened to lurch back into reality as well, but Hades continued to pour more and more fire into the room. He had never remained phased for more than a second or two at a time, and now it exerted him as he never had been before as he was forced to remain in the ethereal plane for long seconds that stretched out to eternity.

Pain. He was in so much pain. Pain of body, mind, and spirit. He knew that if he let go, it would be over. All he had to do was let go.

He…

He felt the magic inside him waver, and threaten to die. He could not keep this up. And he wondered if he really wanted to.

Hans vaguely saw a flash of light, and then the fire stopped. Hans shuddered back into reality, collapsing to his hands and knees. His skin glistened with sweat, but the adrenaline of a man who had just faced death flooded him. The pain in his chest felt inconsequential by comparison, and he wondered how just moments before he had been contemplating giving up. Hans pushed himself to his feet and saw Hades crumpled to its knees. Kariena slashed through the vertebrae of its neck, and time seemed to slow as the blue skull tumbled through the air, its wreath of flame extinguished.

Hans lunged to his feet and rammed his swords through Lady Blackheart's corroded chest. It screeched and clawed at his flesh with supernaturally sharp talons, leaving bloody furrows in their wake. Hans roared and swept his swords apart, tearing the corpse in half at the armpit. It hit the ground in a writhing mess of slashing limbs, and he rammed his sword through the top of its skull with a sickening crunch. He tore his blade free and kicked the corpse backwards, where it slid several feet in its own blood to come to a rest at the base of the pedestal.

Breathing heavily, Hans turned back to Kariena, who stood behind Hades's crumpled form on the other side of the room.

"Thanks," he said.

Kariena nodded. "Are you going to be alright?"

She paced around the dark robe, casting a disdainful glance down at the blue skull that had shortly before been borne upon it.

"Yeah," Hans said, looking back at Marina Blackheart's defiled body, now in pieces across the floor. His stomach turned again just looking at it. She had been his mentor. His friend. "Yeah, I think I will."

"Good, because I –"

There was movement at the edge of his vision.

Hans whirled around to see Hades's headless skeleton rising from the floor. Moving supernaturally fast, the foul thing cast aside its robe and lunged towards Kariena's turned back, arms outstretched.

"NO!" Hans yelled, throwing one of his swords at the skeleton.

Kariena saw the alarm in his face and began to teleport, but at the same time one of the skeleton's bony hands closed around her wrist. Hans's sword struck Hades's body in the ribcage, shattering several as it passed through them, and causing it to wrench back. Flame exploded in a flashing burst where Kariena had been, and then she appeared in a swirl of light against the far wall of the room, clutching at a charred stump where her arm had been. The spiral of flame cleared, and ashen bones lay at Hades's feet.

"NO!" Hans roared again, rage boiling into his blood.

He began to charge towards Hades, but something hit his back, and then pierced through him. He looked down and saw a shadowy, necrotic claw bursting through his abdomen. It tore back out and he collapsed against Everdark's pedestal, clutching at a tear that split him nearly in two. He was holding his own intestines against the wound, some of them ruptured. His spine was broken, and he could not feel anything below his waist. A shadowy ghoul stood over him, its movements orchestrated by Lady Blackheart's sundered corpse.

Both of them, it seemed, could not be killed.

"Get the hell out of here!" Hans screamed at Kariena, real terror setting in as Hades turned towards her again. She was unresponsive. He couldn't see her face from where he lay.

 _Jesus Christ,_ Hans thought, trying to struggle to his feet even if he knew it would be impossible. He glanced down again and saw, through his torn shirt, that his skin around the wound was rapidly blackening. He was corroding away.

Kariena slowly rolled over, and pushed herself into a kneeling position with her remaining arm. Her scarred side faced him, and Hans could see that there was no open wound. It had been totally cauterized by the dark fire. She turned to meet his eyes, and he was surprised by the lack of fear in them.

"It isn't fair that it has to be like this," she said. "We were supposed to have time to build a life together someday. But there's no other way. I hope you were right, Hans."

"Kariena!" Hans said, a single tear rolling down his cheek, "Kariena, I –"

She threw her remaining knife into Hades's advancing form. It stumbled slightly, and she teleported. It lashed the ground where she had been with flame, and then she appeared _above_ Hans, reaching out and closing her hand around the knife that he had plunged into the statue of Everdark. She began to fall, and with it, she dragged the dagger downwards, tearing open a cavity in the statue's chest.

Something fell out of it and clattered to the ground beside Hans just as she landed in front of him. She leaned forwards and kissed him on the lips just as Hades's flame struck her from behind.

There was a flash of light and Hans felt momentary, searing pain, and then she was gone, her bones falling to the floor around him. He stared forwards, unable to think. One second stretched to infinity.

Kariena…

Was dead.

Hans's vision blurred, and he felt a horrible loss, but a familiar one. That same, exact feeling he'd had when Mallory had slipped through his fingers over a decade ago was back. Hopelessness, and weakness, and terror.

And incendiary, all-consuming anger.

For some reason, Hans's vision settled on the thing that had tumbled out of the cavity in Everdark's chest. It was a small, dark disk, irreflective of light. It looked to be crafted of stone, and it seemed very familiar to him.

It was a tensing disk.

Without thinking, Hans snatched it with a bloodstained hand and rammed it into the tear in his own abdomen.

 _FOOL! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!_

Hans could not formulate any thought in reply to the voice which suddenly screamed in his head, for his chest threatened to burst under an explosion of magic greater than anything any human in history had ever experienced. More power than even Elsa possessed rippled through him, bursting from his eyes as trails of red light and boiling in his blood with insatiable fierceness.

"AAAAAGGGGHHHHH!" Hans screamed, all of his pain and fear and rage amplified ten thousand times as he touched the face of a god.

And then, he felt hatred. Hatred so pure and all-consuming that it was as if he had never known the emotion before. Simply destroying Everdark now would be far too merciful a response to what it had done to him. Hans embraced the power coursing through his body, and the searing, unstoppable pain that came with it.

His body failed and his heart stopped. Energy ruptured his skin and poured out of him in the form of a brilliant light. His body was being incinerated, but his mind was opened to something else entirely. He became conscious of his ability to think about _everything_ at once. His mind moved quickly, jumping between dozens of topics in a fraction of a second, and devoting to each a startling clarity.

It was as if…

It was as if he had become a god.

Hans realized that he had the power to craft for himself a vessel, not unlike a body. He did so, and it stepped out of the ashes of his old form, a being with a herculean musculature and a halo of light that obscured its face. He was more than a human now, and before he could consciously decide otherwise, his very appearance had been sculpted to reflect that.

Hades lashed at him with fire, but the magic parted around him without so much as a thought devoted to it. He raised a hand and it flashed with luminous brilliance, and the skeleton that had once been master of the underworld disintegrated, reduced to atoms. Without turning his gaze, he did the same to Lady Blackheart. Let them finally be laid to rest.

Sorrow immediately gripped him again when the room fell silent, and he knelt beside the remains of his beloved. He raised her skull, pristine and white, and touched it to his forehead, shedding the tears of a god. In his newfound, infinite understanding, he recognized that there was only one way to bring her back.

If he sacrificed all of his power, he could do it. He had already suspected, on some level, and now knew for certain, that this was how he had been recalled to life after his death in New York City. Hades had already given up his power, so that when Hans died, he would be given a second chance. Something of a parting gift, from an old friend.

But Hans could not do the same for Kariena. He wanted to, more than he had ever wanted something before, but he knew that by doing so, he would doom all of humanity in the process. With his current power, there was only one thing that he _could_ do.

Take Everdark's armies away from it.

Hans set Kariena's skull upon the floor again with careful reverence, the loneliness and loss constricting his chest and choking his voice.

"Before Everdark, Hades was Lord of the Underworld," Hans said. Somehow, he knew that he needed to speak these words aloud, and that they would have power. "In time, he came to think of me as something like a son. _I_ am his rightful successor, not the usurper Everdark. With this power, I can claim my right. Let it be done."

A god's words carried with them the weight of law, and his surroundings sloughed away, replaced with a featureless void.

 _THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!_ Everdark's true voice, that of a violent, chaotic force of destruction, raged at him. _YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POWERFUL ENOUGH! THE MAGIC SHOULD HAVE TORN YOU APART!_

"You will lose," Hans said, his words injected with all of his hatred. "Once my friends and I are done with you, you will have nothing left but oblivion, and the weight of your own failure."

Their powers clashed against each other. It was as if Hans had been plunged into a mighty void, an endless expanse of night, all of it imbued with a force that threatened to crush him. But he had strength of his own, a blazing beacon of radiance that pierced the blackness like the first rays of a new dawn. They roiled against each other like raging seas, and with each blow Hans tested the seemingly boundless limits of his new strength.

 _THE STRENGTH OF A GOD DOES NOT MAKE YOU POWERFUL, HUMAN. YOU WERE TOO WEAK TO SAVE YOUR LOVER. TEARING HER AWAY FROM YOU WAS A PRIZE INDEED._

"The tensing disk inside of me is yours, isn't it? It's the power of the Lost Immortals. After you killed them, you stored their strength here. Hades never took it for himself because he knew that so much power would destroy him. Even you were too scared to risk taking it into yourself. So you waited, biding your time for the moment that you were powerful enough to absorb their souls."

 _THE PROTECTOR'S LIFE IS SLIPPING AWAY AS WELL. EVEN WITH YOUR GREAT STRENGTH, YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM ALL. YOU WILL PROVE ONLY YOUR OWN HUBRIS, BOY._

"You can't believe that I was worthy of all this power. An ordinary human, capable of absorbing the souls of not just one god, but one dozen?"

 _EVEN NOW, MY SOLDIERS WILL SLAUGHTER YOUR EMPRESS LIKE A PIG. WE WILL PUT HER HEAD ON A PIKE AND MARCH IT THROUGH THE STREETS OF YOUR DEFEATED CITIES._

"But I'm not an ordinary human," Hans said. "I am the Avenger, recalled to life with the sole purpose of exacting retribution for your murder of the Lost Immortals. Of course I'm worthy of their souls. I am the _only_ one who is worthy _._ "

 _NO!_ Everdark roared. _YOU ARE NOTHING!_

Everdark's strength faltered, and Hans struck it with all his might, crushing into the darkness with of twelve forgotten gods. He felt a vicious pleasure as it screamed with pain, and then a brilliant triumph as it fell away from him. It was retreating, giving up. The Underworld was his.

In the next moment, Hans was standing in the depths of Hades's temple again. He felt a new, tremendous weight upon his shoulders, a burden that he would bear until the end of time, if he had to.

He took a shuddering breath, and then closed his eyes. His part in this story had finally come to an end. He wasn't happy, but he was finally on the path towards peace.

xxx

The weight around Elsa's neck slackened, and then disappeared. She gasped for air, clutching at her neck, and whirled around to see that Mercier and his furies had collapsed to the ground. They no longer moved, but even as she watched them, they faded away, rose petals rising from their disintegrating forms and billowing in a soft, supernatural breeze.

Two polearms clattered to the ground on either side of her, followed by the heavy cloaks that the flying wizards had worn. The wizards themselves were gone, a swirl of red and white petals drifting through the shattered windows of the cathedral.

Elsa looked around with wonderment and awe.

Something marvelous had happened.

xxx

Anna Siguror watched with a cool detachment as the soldiers burst through the chamber's doorway. The last two members of her personal guard leapt into the fray, the sound of clanging steel on steel filling the room. They fought valiantly, but within seconds, they were overwhelmed and hacked to pieces. Anna backpedaled until she touched the wall, and knew that she had nowhere else to go. She turned towards the doors that let out on the balcony just in time to see them burst inwards, a horde of enemies practically falling over themselves as they stormed into the room.

 _Goodbye, Michael. I hope that you have a long life before you rejoin me and your father,_ Anna thought, falling to the ground and raising a hand as an enemy drew back his sword to finish her off.

But… he stopped, his arm held aloft, and for a bizarre moment, Anna saw fear in the man's eyes.

 _What…?_

Then his sword fell out of his hand, clattering to the ground. He collapsed to his knees, clutching at his face as he turned to flower petals before her eyes. In a heartbeat, the room was filled with a storm of them, and borne aloft by an unseen current, they floated out the window.

Anna ran after them onto the balcony to see, silhouetted against the setting sun, a sea of roses before her eyes.

She had not dared to hope that salvation would come. She had not dared to think that she would survive this night. Now, faced with the reality that she would see her son again, Anna fell to her knees and began to sob uncontrollably.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

 _As I etch these final lines, it occurs to me that I am finally done. These words were the final connection that I have with the role of Protector, and now that they are finished, I am truly… myself, again. It is hard to say whether I regret that. I do not envy the one who will be tasked with completing what I failed to do._

 _Ashanerat_

 _The Keeper's Stele_

* * *

The Heart of Darkness

The Sea of Stars

March 8th, 1844

A tall, willowy man stood in the doorway to the hut. His skin was dark, and his bald head was covered with scriptural tattoos. He wore a white robe with a golden trim at the edge of the voluminous sleeves as well as the neckline. His earlobes were distended with heavy, gleaming jewelry.

"Who are you?" Odette asked, surprised enough that she didn't reach for the short sword at her waist.

"My name is Circu," he said. "In a time when man was more naïve, they thought that I was an archmagi known as the Learner. But I am that no longer."

"I know that name," Eleshka said wonderingly. "We have stories about you, in the Sea of Stars. You were one of the members of the Celestian Consulate, right? With Ashanerat?"

Circu inclined his head. "That is correct."

"What are you doing here?" Odette asked, suspiciously. "And how did you know what I am?"

Circu reached with his hand as if for a chair, and obligingly, one appeared beneath it. He pulled it up and sat down, focusing an intense, steely gaze on Odette.

"I am here because that is my fate. When my companions and I were invaded by Everdark many millennia ago, and we were unable to defeat the dark god, it was decided that we should use the combined strength of magic to bind it somewhere far away from the earth, where its power would be unable to best ours. That place that we put it was here, a place that was previously uninhabited space in the Sea of Stars. We hoped that it could do little harm here. Of course, this place would eventually come to be what it is today: a heart of darkness, the center of the foul being's consciousness.

"The ritual which would banish Everdark to this place was very simple, but it was also powerless. The Dark God could simply re-enter the world at its own behest. It would have done nothing. What we needed was something that could _contain_ Everdark. I came to realize that thing could be a maze."

"A maze?" Eleshka asked.

"A labyrinth so monstrously complex that Everdark would not be able to solve it. It would be trapped, forever. But the difficulty was that none of us could craft such a thing all at once. How can a human make something complex enough to outwit a god? We had nearly come to the conclusion that this, too, was a fool's errand, before I realized that it wasn't necessary to _outsmart_ Everdark."

"What did you do?" Odette wondered.

"The ritual was arranged so that I would be bound to this place just as Everdark was. This is where I have remained, lost in meditation until Everdark re-entered the world some decades ago. While I was here, I constructed the labyrinth _while Everdark was in it,_ in some sense providing the God of Darkness with an endless sequence of choices. Each branch, each decision in the labyrinth was constructed from magic that unfolds as time passes, expanding outwards in fractals of endless, cascading choice. It took every bit of effort that I could muster to maintain these webs of magic for as long as I did."

Circu was quiet for a moment, now, as Odette and Eleshka took in what he had said. This man spent nearly six thousand years trapped in this place, crafting a maze for Everdark. Odette would have gone mad.

"To your other question, Odette, I know who you are because I have been watching you." He indicated towards Hythirion's amulet. "Since last December, when Everdark recovered this thing. It was brought here, when the God of Darkness needed it to get out of this place, and then left behind, because here it was least likely to be a threat to Everdark."

"But you're here," Odette said. "Why leave it with you? Why leave you alive at all?"

Circu smiled slightly. "I am not alive. As a matter of fact, I have not been for almost six thousand years. It is my spirit that has been here all this time. The nature of the ritual which bound me here gave me a sapience which lasted beyond the grave, in return for the terrible burden that this will be my home, for the rest of time."

"But you're practically immortal!" Eleshka said. "That doesn't sound like much of a price to pay."

Circu raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. "Isn't it?"

"A dead man cannot do anything to influence your world, so I am not a threat to Everdark. I suspect, if it was willing to spend considerable effort doing so, it could banish me from this place, and likely destroy my soul in the process, due to the way it is bound. But it is not worth the Dark God's time, nor the effort. Perhaps it considers my burden torture, and lets me persist onwards as a twisted sort of punishment."

Odette opened herself to the arcana, and saw that Circu had no lifeline. Somehow, she intuitively recognized that this meant each moment was agony for him.

"But I am curious, Mender, what brought you and your friend here, of all places."

Odette shook her head. "I haven't figured that out yet. We're here to stop Everdark, I just don't know how we're going to do it."

"Brave of you, to come here," Circu said. "Might I provide a bit of advice?"

"Of course," Odette said, surprised. Did he hold the answer to their problems?

"Everdark's strength, I am sure you are now aware, is derived from the devotion that humanity places in it. But this is self-reinforcing. It takes only a depraved cult to empower the Dark God, and then more and more will fall under its sway as they are seduced by its ever-growing power."

"We have seen evidence of this," Odette said. "We find it surprising, how droves have started to worship Everdark. They follow its teachings to the point of standing against us, laying down their lives to protect it."

Circu nodded. "It was Sakina who made this revelation originally. We owe to her wisdom. It is a fool's errand to attempt to challenge Everdark when it is at the height of its power. Indeed, some of us suspected that it was _impossible_ to defeat. We had no way of challenging Everdark and its cults at the same time, so we could not hope to win. Banishment became our only option. I implore you to find another path, to seek a way in which you are able to destroy Everdark's centers of faith before you take the challenge to the god."

Eleshka interjected, "But that could take years! Decades! People don't stop believing in something overnight!"

Odette nodded her agreement. "We're on a short timeframe here, Circu. Our capital has been invaded, and lots of people are dying."

She could no longer sense any lifeline from earth save Elsa's, which she shared. Elsa's was wavering now, on the edge of death. It made Odette feel sick, but there was nothing that she could do but hope. Voice shaking slightly, she continued.

"Perhaps… perhaps we could do the same thing that you did. Trap it again."

Circu shook his head. "I fear that such a thing is doubtful. In the days of Celestus, we had access to the sum total of all of humanity's knowledge of magic, and yet even we had a difficult time crafting such a massive spell. Rituals are immensely complex, often requiring dozens or hundreds of smaller incantations, all of which have to be performed flawlessly. It is beyond your abilities."

"Do you remember it?" Eleshka asked, hopefully.

Circu looked down. "It has been nearly six thousand years, and I have never had any reason to, until now. I remember pieces, but certainly not all of it. And the process of teaching even what I recall to you would be time-intensive. Neither of you have been trained in ritual magic, I gather."

Odette began to panic. She had built much of her life on being logical, deductive, and calm. She prided herself on her ability to solve tough problems, and scarcely had she ever been faced with one where she truly felt as if she had no options. When she did encounter something like this, she found that she started to come apart at the seams and lose control.

Circu's face grew dark. "Everdark has detected your presence. You are not alone here."

"What?" Eleshka asked, frightened, but Circu was already disappearing, becoming transparent and then fading away entirely.

There was a thrash of wings as something alighted on the boulder outside of the hut.

"Get behind me!" Odette yelled, drawing her short sword and forcing her way in front of Eleshka. Fear boiled into her throat. No one was here to protect them. Not Elsa, not Hans, not anyone else. They were alone.

A horrible, nightmarish man appeared in the doorway. His flesh was desiccated and withering, and gigantic, molting wings were stitched to its shoulders, caked with blood. His face was skeletal and sunken, with hollow sockets for eyes and brilliant white hair. It was Ardentum, twisted and enslaved beyond death by the forces of darkness.

"NO!" Eleshka screamed, stumbling backwards and collapsing to the ground. "NOOOO!"

Ardentum swiveled his head towards her, his dead eyes devoid of recognition, his mouth rotted away into a skeletal grimace. An overpowering stench of death rolled off of his animate corpse. Odette gasped, a wave of revulsion nearly sending her to her knees.

His wings furled together at his back, and he drew a dark, gleaming sword from a scabbard at his waist. Then he stepped over the threshold.

Odette lunged forwards and slashed at him with her sword, but her attack was typically clumsy and inaccurate. Ardentum easily parried the blade and then twisted his sword, sliding it down the length of Odette's blade and hitting her cross guard. In the next moment, Ardentum surged forwards with incredible force, knocking her sword out of the way and skewering her through.

"NO!" Eleshka screamed again, covering her mouth with horror.

"It's okay," Odette said, teeth gritted. "I've been stabbed before."

Ardentum twisted the blade and dragged it out of her chest, and Odette's body went into overdrive reknitting itself. Odette staggered backwards and then dodged to the side of Ardentum's next swing, which went wild. She managed to slash his exposed arm with her sword, but she was physically weak, and while her sword bit into his weathered flesh, it did not break the bone.

He wrenched his arm free of her sword and slashed her sidelong, his sword digging deep into her abdomen. Odette gritted her teeth. Her magic reduced the pain that she felt – some of the damage that her body took was undone before her nerves could even respond – but it certainly wasn't pleasant. Ardentum drew close to her during his strike, and Odette rammed her sword into his face this time, plunging it several inches into his forehead. Eleshka gasped.

Ardentum's corpse took one hand off of its sword and backhanded Odette, sending her tumbling to the ground with a spiral of blood. Odette lost vision on the damaged side of her face for a moment before it flickered back to life, and she coughed blood onto the floor. A moment later, she felt a horrible pain as his sword plunged into her back.

"Ardentum! Stop!" Eleshka cried, her voice hysterical and wracked with sobs. "Oh, gods, Ardentum, what did they do to you?"

Odette turned her head to see Eleshka shakily stand up and begin to walk towards Ardentum.

"Eleshka, no! Don't come clos –"

Ardentum lunged forwards and closed a skeletal hand around his sister's neck, lifting her several inches off of the ground. Her feet pedaled in the air frantically as she clutched at his hand, gasping piteously.

"Ardentum," she choked out, eyes brimming with tears.

Odette forced herself off of the ground and drew Ardentum's own sword from her back, closing a hand around the blade and wrenching it from her body. She shifted her grip to the handle and hissed as the slashes along her palm closed. She was growing more exhausted by the moment; healing this much, this quickly, wasn't sustainable for much longer. Odette dashed across the room and swung the sword two-handed laterally at his knees. The blade crunched through his leg entirely and then bit into the other, and his balance was unsettled.

Eleshka fell from his slackened grip to the ground, where she immediately began to cough raggedly. Ardentum fell to the ground, but he raised a hand as Odette stepped over him to deal another blow and he clenched his fist.

Odette was struck in the abdomen as if by a hammer – a powerful blow from an unseen force that crushed her ribs and sent her reeling backwards. The same shockwave exploded the walls of the little hut outwards, and Odette hit the ground in a daze, ears ringing. Ardentum's vulturine wings unfurled, sending molted feathers flying, and he began to beat them powerfully. Odette rolled onto her side and vaguely realized that her face had gotten wet. She touched it and drew her hand away. Her fingers glistened with blood.

 _We need to get out of here,_ Odette realized. They were as good as dead if they remained much longer.

"Brother!" Eleshka screamed, dragging herself into a kneeling position, tears streaking her face. "Don't you recognize me?"

"Ardentum is gone, Eleshka." Odette said, tightening her grip on his sword as she stood again. Her knees shook, and her arms sagged slightly. She wondered if she even had the strength to slash him again. "This is not him."

Ardentum raised a fist and clenched it. Odette felt that same, invisible hand close around her and begin to crush. Her bones broke like brittle wood underneath the force, and she cried out. His sword clattered to the ground beside her. A wicked, hideous grin stared back at her as the life was squeezed from her body. She felt her magic begin to fail, and pain like liquid ice overpowered her thoughts.

Ardentum paced across the hut and retrieved his sword from where it lay beside Odette. He raised it, point-down, above Odette's head, and in her panicked state Odette wondered whether she could heal from a sword through the brain.

Then…

Ardentum stopped. He swayed on his feet, momentarily, and then he fell forwards, his sword missing its mark and skewering Odette through the sternum instead. He slid past the blade towards her, but before his body could collapse onto hers it burst into a storm of rose petals. The force crushing Odette abruptly gave away, and as the petals rained upon her, she coughed blood and closed her hands around the blade in her chest, slashing them brutally as she tore the sword from her chest.

She dropped it to her side amidst a splatter of her own blood and gasped, feeling intensely, horribly weak as magic drained her strength away.

"What happened?" Eleshka asked, slowly standing. Her voice became frantic. "Where did he go?"

Odette couldn't speak, nor even shake her head. She lay where she was, wondering if she was still going to die after all this. What if she simply ran out of the strength she needed to use her magic?

But what _had_ happened?

Eleshka stepped onto the platform outside of the hut and looked around, but he was gone. After calling his name several times, she fell to her knees and began to sob. Odette tentatively reached to her chest and palpated new flesh. She had learned with experience that she could save effort by only mostly healing wounds – leaving behind traces of damage that would eventually scar, but managing to make her abilities last longer.

She had begun to realize that she wasn't going to die, at least not here, and that made her weak with relief. She would likely bear scars from this day forever. Eventually, she was able to raise herself up on her elbows, and then drag herself into a sitting position. Eleshka stepped back into the hut, wiping at red eyes with the back of her hand. She, too, was injured; she had a line of ugly bruises around her neck, and she was favoring one of her legs. Probably some other things, too.

"I'm sorry, Eleshka," Odette said, voice hoarse. She staggered across the hut and pulled the young Armir into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

"We need to finish this," Eleshka said hollowly.

Odette drew back.

"Yes," she said, recalling her original motivation for trying to come here.

Was this unnatural place even something that she could Mend? If she could, did she have the strength left to do it? Almost certainly not, but she had to try. Lives were slipping away while they waited. Odette slowly lowered herself to one knee, and, after a moment's thought, reached out and plucked Hythirion's amulet off of the ground.

 _If you have any final blessings to give me, Hythirion, now would be the time._

A bolt of epiphany struck her from the blue, so clear and brilliant that she felt as if her silent prayer had been answered. Odette had spoken to Hythirion many times, but only a few towards the end of her life. And even then, her predecessor had likely had a decade or more left to live. Hythirion had never been able to fully explain everything that the amulets could do. She had created them to allow her patriarch to travel to the Sea of Stars, but she could do little to explain their ability to let Elsa view glimpses of the past, or Odette actually interact with it. It had always been a mystery, but suddenly, it made sense.

Hythirion had solved it all, before she died. She'd figured everything out. And she'd poured all of her knowledge into these amulets, crafting tools so invaluable that even a god would covet them.

"In one of the first visions that I had of the Mender that came before me, she implied that she had the ability to turn her ruler's son into a wizard. Later, she told me personally that she didn't know how to do it, but she had been told by the Immortals that it _was_ a power that she could learn, eventually."

"Did she ever learn how?"

"I think that she did," Odette said, looking down at the amulet in her hand. It was slightly warm, and it felt pleasant to her touch. Far removed from the overpowering wave of nausea that had struck her when she first touched it.

Elsa hadn't experienced the same revulsion upon touching the amulet for the first time. But Eleshka had. When they'd first found one of the amulets in the catacombs underneath the Saint Adelaide Cathedral, Odette had felt palpable, dark magic flooding the air. Except she hadn't had the slightest clue what separated evil magic from the rest of it at that time. In fact, Odette had _never_ really felt a distinction between the aura-like presence of _any_ kind of magic. It all felt the same. What if the amulets had never been evil artifacts at all?

"What makes you think that she figured it out?"

"Did you know that you're only the third person on our side who's ever touched one of these things?" Odette said. "Including myself. You and I had the same reaction. We both recoiled, and felt nausea. Elsa didn't. I don't think that the power that Hythirion and I share was _ever_ about turning people into wizards. It was about awakening something new inside of someone who already has magic. Turning them into something greater. Elsa was already an archmagi when she first touched one these amulets. But we weren't."

Eleshka frowned, kneeling in front of Odette. "You're saying that the amulet turned me into an archmage? Like you, or Elsa?"

"I'm saying that I was just a healer before I touched the amulet. And I wasn't even a good one, at that. After I did, I became a Mender within a month, and I'd finished crafting my bonds by a year. I think that it gave me something."

Eleshka closed her eyes. She was looking inside, Odette knew. Searching for something new.

She gasped, and Odette felt tears welling in her eyes.

 _Thank you,_ Odette thought, hoping that wherever Hythiron's soul had passed on to, it could hear her. _You have done more for us than you could ever know._

"Yes," Eleshka said, voice choking with wonder and awe. "Yes, there's something new."

Odette reached out and took one of Eleshka's hands, placing the other against the stone beneath her.

"Let's save the goddamn world," Odette said.

xxx

Eleshka opened herself to the new power within her, and was instantly transported somewhere else. She knew that her body lay behind in the center of the heart of darkness, but her soul was in the center now, with the Worldsoul of the Sea of Stars. It was intensely comforting, to be in its presence again, after a time spent on Earth.

 _You have returned to me, child,_ it said, speaking to her with words, rather than impressions, for the first time.

Eleshka gasped, and it seemed to smile, somehow.

 _And you have acquired a new strength. I believe that you are called the Joiner, now._

Eleshka knew, intuitively, that this _was_ her title as an archmage. She alone had the ability to join a Worldsoul, and she alone had the strength to use magic to shape it.

"I am going to heal you now," she said softly, reaching out in her mind's eye to touch the golden, transient form before her. Odette could heal the people, but only Eleshka could fix the world itself.

 _I would welcome that, child. For nearly six thousand years my heart has been blackened and corrupted by the foul creature that now threatens your existence._

"If I heal you, will it lose its domain?" Eleshka asked, already allowing her magic to flow out into the Worldsoul. She was amazed at her own, boundless energy, and for the first time she truly comprehended the strength that her friends had been wielding. "Do gods need a physical space?"

 _It_ will _lose its domain if you repair my heart,_ the Worldsoul said. _Although this will not destroy it, it will still be a grievous blow to the God of Darkness. A god's domain is the center of its ideology, the place which dictates the canon that its believers will come to follow. Without a place to do this, belief in Everdark will begin to wane as priests' words lose their sway with new believers. Divine truth is something personal to a living creature, and when the dogma of an immortal does not resonate with them, belief will not take root in their heart._

"That… that's too long a time frame," Eleshka said, losing some of the confidence that she'd had just moments ago. "Earth and the Sea of Stars are falling apart _now._ "

 _Well, then, it sounds as if you're going to need more time._

Before Eleshka could formulate a reply, she began to return to reality, her surroundings fading away until the Worldsoul was replaced with Odette by her side again. They no longer sat in a hut in the center of a field of meteors; now they were in a meadow, a field of tall grass, surrounded by wildflowers.

The Sea of Stars was healed.

xxx

Odette opened her eyes to see that they knelt in a beautiful field, not unlike the one in the Watcher's realm. Eleshka was looking around with wonderment and awe.

"I did it," she said softly, amazed by her own, newfound power. Then she turned towards Odette. "The Worldsoul told me that without its domain, the cults following Everdark wouldn't be able to recruit new followers."

"That's good," Odette said, the hope in her chest growing with each passing moment. Where so recently before things had seemed doomed, now there was a chance. "That's great. Gods get their power from the devotion of their believers. This puts us on a path to defeating Everdark!"

"But it doesn't solve our problems now," Eleshka said plaintively. "The Worldsoul said that we need more time. But I don't see how; Paris is probably razed to the ground by now!"

"Maybe not," Odette said, excitement bleeding into her voice as she closed her hand around the amulet and began to visualize the capital of the Unified Empire. "While you were healing the Worldsoul, I was looking inwards, at Elsa's lifeline. Before Ardentum attacked us, she was nearly dead. But now, her condition has improved. Something turned the tide of battle for them!"

She reached out and took Eleshka's hand. "Come on, we have a war to win."


	40. Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Six

 _I still miss her, of course. I still fantasize about a life where we never had to fight, never had to give it all away in the name of peace. Hans and Kariena, too. But… I'm proud. Nothing is quite as powerful as knowing that you've saved the world._

 _Odette Marie Novare_

* * *

Paris,

France

March 8th, 1844

The sun boiled red far overhead, obscured behind angry clouds of smoke. At first, an utter silence had gripped the city in the minutes after their invaders had been scattered to the winds, but now the wails of the injured and the mourning had begun to fill the void. Elsa stood atop the last tower of the Notre Dame that still remained, and she gazed to the portal at the center of the city, wondering what could possibly have happened to spare them. What could have destroyed a million men, all at once?

She'd lost track of everyone who mattered to her during the fighting. She had no idea where Hans, Kariena, Odette, or Eleshka were. She could only hope that their enemies, too, had been defeated in the same, mysterious way. There was a foreboding feeling in the air, as if they had entered the calm before a storm.

"I know that you're out there," Elsa said softly. She called Rimeheart to her hand, then dismissed it. Then did it again. "Waiting for the right moment to make your entrance. Well, now's the time."

But Everdark did not appear. It wasn't the right moment, evidently.

Elsa stepped off of the tower and a track of ice sprung to life beneath her feet. She began to skate towards the ruined arch in the center of the city. As she did, she passed over ruined streets and broken homes. The broken cobbles were littered with shards of wood and stone, discarded weapons, and heaps of human bodies. It made Elsa's stomach turn to gaze upon them all and know that each and every one of them belonged to one of hers. All the others had turned to flower petals and blown away on the wind.

She touched down in the ruined square some forty feet in front of the portal. Its edges were irregular and erratic, emitting sparks as they crackled with eldritch force. Inside was a view of a blasted landscape, with a fiery, boiling sky and nothing but featureless, cracked earth. Everdark was not waiting for her in Hell.

Elsa began to feel that something was wrong. What on earth was going on?

There was a familiar flash of light and arcane crackle, and Elsa turned to see one of Odette's portals opening behind her. She gasped with surprise and relief as Odette and Eleshka stepped through the gate, looking exhausted and bruised but ultimately safe.

"Lost Immortals," Elsa said, dashing across the intervening space and pulling them both into a hug. "Where the hell were you?"

"Everdark's domain in the Sea of Stars," Odette said. "Eleshka wiped it from existence."

Elsa drew back, gazing with surprise upon the demure teenager. There was a new strength in her eyes that Elsa had not seen before.

"Well done," she said, placing a hand on Eleshka's shoulder. She turned to Odette. "What does that mean? Surely, it's not beaten?"

"No," Odette said, shaking her head, "but it gives us a route to victory. True gods, unlike immortals like you, receive their strength from the faith that their followers put in them. Destroying a god's domain affects its religion, and the faith of its believers. The Cult of Entropy won't be able to recruit new members. Or, maybe its not impossible, but it's harder. I don't understand it perfectly."

"But there's still all of the existing members," Eleshka interjected, voice fearful. "This doesn't help us if we still can't beat Everdark."

Elsa frowned with worry. Even with Hans's help, she hadn't been able to defeat Everdark in Venice. Alone, Elsa didn't think that she stood much of a chance of besting it, even if she could match it toe to toe for quite some time.

"Ashanerat and the other Celestians _didn't_ beat Everdark," Odette said. "They couldn't, so they settled for containing it instead."

Elsa felt a sinking in her stomach. Had Odette figured out how to replicate the same ritual of binding? She did not want to fail the same way that Ashanerat had, and this _would_ be failure. Was humanity destined to repeat this cycle, once during each epoch of time?

"If that is what we must do to save the world, then I suppose we have little choice," Elsa said, voice laden with resignation.

"No," Odette said, eyes glimmering. "No, we can defeat it."

"But how?" Eleshka said. "Circu said it himself, we need more time."

"We _have_ more time," Odette said, looking directly into Elsa's eyes. Her voice was emphatic, and emotional. "Elsa, you haven't had enough time to master this power, I know. But you _can_ stop time."

Elsa's eyes widened, and revelation took her like an unseen force.

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, that could work."

"It _will_ work," Odette said, "because we can't afford to fail."

Elsa's mind whirled, jumping several steps at a time as it formulated a plan.

"I need to draw it –"

"-away from here," Odette finished. She reached up and raised one of Hythirion's lockets from its place around her neck. She handed it to Elsa. "This can take you to the Sea of Stars."

"It might be a long time before I see you again," Elsa said.

"It could be years," Odette agreed.

Sadness surged into Elsa's thoughts. This sacrifice was so minor, so inconsequential compared to the millions who'd had their families torn asunder by this war. And yet, for several moments, Elsa found herself wondering if this was a price she was willing to pay. She had never loved anyone the way that she did Odette, and the thought of willfully separating from her for such a time was abhorrent.

But it was her burden. She was the Protector, and she would die before giving up.

Voice wavering slightly, she said, "I love you, Odette."

Odette bit her lower lip. "I love you too. You know that."

Elsa leaned forwards to kiss her wife, and for a brief moment, the pain of the world around them faded away. She took in the smoky, charred scent in Odette's hair, felt the scars that laced her back. Underneath it all was the shy, precocious young woman who'd always been too humble to realize that she was the smartest person in the room. Elsa stared into her eyes as she pulled away, a sickly feeling in her stomach telling her that it would be a very, very long time before she saw them again.

"Every moment with you was a blessing," Odette said, tears streaking her cheeks. "Nothing will ever come close."

Elsa put the necklace on, the dark amulet settling against her chest. She closed her eyes, and took a slow, ragged breath.

"Don't make me wait too long," Elsa said, half-smiling despite her sorrow. "You owe me a date when I get back."

Odette nodded, and gulped. "Yes," she said. "Yes, we'll go on date. When things have finally settled down, and we finally have time for ourselves."

"Maybe they'll rebuild that fancy restaurant in Arendelle, where I first took you out," Elsa said, her domain in the Sea of Stars manifesting in her mind's eye. She felt a tug at her extremities, soft at first but growing more powerful with each passing moment. "We can dance, too –"

And then she was gone, leaving the world with a flash of light and a void like nothing Odette had ever felt. For several seconds, she and Eleshka stared at the place where the Protector had stood moments before, silent and unresponsive as motes of cinder and ash fell like snow from the choked sky.

"She's not coming back, is she?" Eleshka asked, voice cracked with emotion.

Odette shook her head, and slowly let out a breath that she'd been holding. "Whether she does or not falls to us. We still have a massive undertaking ahead of us. There are still worshippers of Everdark in every reach of this earth. Thousands upon thousands of them. Every single one of them must die or renege before she can return."

"That's the work of a lifetime," Eleshka said.

"Yes," Odette replied. She began to walk towards the Île de la Cité, where the few survivors of the attack would be. "Yes, it is."

xxx

Elsa appeared amidst a resounding blast of thunder, stepping out of a flash of light onto the marble floor of the Hall of Triumph. The sky around it, normally brilliant blue and populated with golden clouds, was black with a heavy storm. Lightning danced between the clouds, and rain whipped at her frayed clothing. She reached to the side and summoned Rimeheart, peering past the columns at the edge of the building to the angry skies beyond.

"Well?" She shouted. "Your army is gone. Your domain is shattered. All that's left is you and me."

A spear of dark clouds plunged through the skies and struck the edge of the marble platform with explosive force, sending shrapnel into the air. Elsa narrowed her eyes as the shards stopped in midair before her, focusing on the darkness. It did not coalesce into the familiar form that Everdark had taken before; instead, a vaguely humanoid shape of pure, swirling shadow emerged. It was lit with glints of cinder, and as she watched its arms manifested as wicked blades.

 _CONGRATULATIONS. YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS HAVE NOW OFFICIALLY OVERSTAYED YOUR WELCOME._

It twisted to a kneeling position and rammed one of the blades into the marble floor of the hall. It shattered beneath Elsa's feet, the pillars collapsing in on themselves. The Hall itself was sundered, and Elsa fell through the floor as it collapsed into the void around her. She twisted herself in midair until her feet pointed downwards and then a sheet of ice appeared beneath her. She landed, and it supported her weight somehow, though the sheet itself should also have been falling.

Elsa somehow instinctively knew the way things worked in her domain, and with a bare thought, finely sculpted pillars rose from the ice around her, and then the Hall was complete again, a perfect replica crafted entirely of ice.

Everdark plummeted through the air at incredible speed and landed on its feet in the center of the new Hall. It charged towards Elsa and she barely had time to react, bringing Rimeheart up in time to turn aside a savage string of attacks. She caught both of its blades against her own and sent a wave of ice sweeping it backwards across the Hall. She clenched her fist, and ice swirled up from the floor to inter the thing of darkness.

Thunder split the sky, and then a bolt of lightning struck the icy tomb, shattering it and launching Everdark towards Elsa again. They crossed blades, and it spoke again, its voice a horrid scream that reverberated many times over in her mind.

 _I DO NOT NEED AN ARMY TO KILL YOU._

It swept Rimeheart to the side and plunged its other arm towards her chest. Icy spikes materialized between it and her skin, flaying the arm before it could reach her. Everdark roared with frustration and drew back. Its body shuddered, and then split many times, a pantheon of shifting shadows leaping out of its form and all falling upon Elsa at once.

A ward of icy shields circled around her, cracking under the stress of so many blows. Rimeheart flashed with peals of thunder as she wove it through the shadows. One of the claws struck her, drawing a lash along her back, and then another on her arm. Both flared with pain of an intensity beyond any that she had ever felt before, and the acrid scent of burning flesh filled her nostrils. She extended both of her hands and sent out a pulse of ice; the shadows burst into smoke, and the true Everdark's voice entered her mind again.

 _YOU ARE STRONG, BUT NOT STRONG ENOUGH, PROTECTOR. I LET YOU LIVE IN MILAN BECAUSE I WAS STILL INTERESTED IN MAINTAINING THIS GAME. BUT NO LONGER._

Everdark raised one of its claw-like appendages, and the Hall of Triumph collapsed again, and Elsa began to fall. At her command, a track of ice appeared beneath her, and she hurtled towards Everdark. She brought her sword around and plunged it towards the Dark God's chest, but it was ready. Rimeheart struck only smoke, and she plunged through its dissipating form, tumbling free through the endless dark sky.

She could not see anything for a moment, but then the clouds boiling around her erupted with lightning. Electricity coursed around her momentarily, and then she was struck. Elsa cried out as the furious heat rippled through her, and then she was hit again, and again. She fell unconscious, and tumbled aimlessly onwards.

…

Life.

Elsa gasped awake, her cold magic icy in her veins. She could not remember anything for a moment, and then it came back to her. She twisted in the air so that her feet pointed downwards and a floor appeared beneath her feet. She landed with her legs and arms splayed, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped off of her forehead onto the ice beneath her fingertips, her braid hanging ragged beside her.

A dark form hurtled through the storm and landed with a deep _boom_ on the other side of the platform.

 _It's supposed to be getting weaker,_ Elsa thought as she gasped for breath. _Isn't it?_

 _THIS IS… DISAPPOINTING. I HAD HOPED THAT YOU MIGHT POSE A REAL CHALLENGE TO ME. BUT YOU'RE JUST LIKE ANY OTHER MORTAL._

"Oh, we're just getting started," Elsa said, pushing herself to her knees and then climbing slowly to her feet. Rimeheart materialized in her open hand, a brilliant beacon against the encroaching darkness.

 _IS THAT SO?_

Everdark widened its stance across the sheet of ice and hurled two spheres of black fire at her. They grew as they gathered speed until they dominated her field of vision. Elsa threw out both hands and a barrier of ice appeared before her. It took the flame and Elsa felt as if she had been hit physically. She struggled to stay on her feet as the wall began to crack; it was as if a massive weight was pressing upon her shoulders, forcing her to kneel.

Elsa cried out underneath the strain, but she remained standing. She stoked the magic inside of herself even further and sent the wall hurtling across the expanse towards Everdark. The god extended an arm and the claw melted away to form a hand. It caught her wall and dug its fingers into the ice. Elsa felt a horrid, surreal grip against her heart, and her magic stuttered and then failed, the wall of ice crumbling to heavy shards.

A haunting, spectral laugh rang out in Elsa's ears as the storm clouds descended upon her and lighting began to dance across the icy expanse. She charged Everdark, relying on her instinctive wards to stop the lightning before it could strike her again. Everdark met her halfway, and one of its claws met Rimeheart with a mighty thunderclap. Then it immediately went on the offensive, striking at her again and again with blinding speed. Elsa blocked the first attack, and then the next, but she could not stop them all, and suddenly one of its claws hit her in the stomach, running her through and emerging, slick with her blood, on the other side.

Elsa gasped and thrashed about, planting a hand on Everdark's shadowy head and encasing it in ice. Everdark roared and threw her backwards, its claw tearing out and sending blood spiraling through the air as she hit the ground and rolled to a stop some twenty feet away. She knew that it was a grievous wound before she could even lay eyes upon it, and it was getting worse. Elsa could feel the necrosis spreading through her limbs.

 _YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE LET ME DO THAT._

Elsa pulled herself to a kneeling position and tried to call upon her magic to seal the wound in her stomach with ice. But nothing came. Heavy panic, more raw and real than anything she'd ever felt before flooded her body as the icy field around her began to collapse.

 _No no no no –_

Elsa fell into the darkness again. Lightning danced in the clouds around her, and then the ones far below began to take on a humanoid shape. Everdark appeared in the face of the storm, as massive a mountain. Angry red spouts of flame danced across it as she plummeted through the air towards its open maw.

Rimeheart would not come to her, and she had no magic to defend herself with. She was powerless to stop the horrid death that she hurtled towards.

But then…

She felt a prayer.

xxx

 _Protector, please grant me the strength to endure the hardship ahead._

Elsa could see vividly in her mind's eye a balding man with a paunch, knelt before his family's hearth. The whole room opened up before her, as if she were there, watching over his shoulder. The man looked like Donahue, the captain of Anna's guard – except he was far older. A shield bearing the crest of the Unified Empire hung over his mantlepiece.

 _I miss Alienor more than I could ever have guessed._

Elsa realized now that there was a feminine touch to the room, and that there were two plush chairs before the fire. Alienor had been the name of Donahue's wife, if she recalled correctly.

 _I did not know that it was possible to feel pain like this. But with your guidance, life will go on for me. You, who have the strength to challenge any adversary, can be my mentor in this time of hardship, teaching me to endure that which I cannot overcome. And for that, I will be forever in your debt. In remembrance and with love, for your holy spirit, I say amen._

Elsa felt strange. Had Donahue really prayed to her? Why would he do such a thing? She was no god.

But then, there was another.

xxx

Montaigne lay in a bed in a small room with an open window. The soft gurgling of a river was a pleasant background noise, and outside the window the beautiful countryside of Southern France opened up like a storybook. Montaigne, like Donahue, was visibly older. His head bore more liver spots than it had ever before, and his hair had faded away to white wisps. He was alone in the room, but not unhappy. A soft, gentle smile graced his face as he whispered his prayer.

"Elsa Siguror. Protector, and pupil, and the dearest of my friends. My time has finally come. I hope that you will not worry about me, wherever you are, because this old man has done quite enough living for _one_ lifetime." He chuckled, a raspy, breathy noise. "But I know that you are not the same girl that I once taught to read and write. You have grown far beyond that, and now I realize that you truly are someone worth praying to. Worth praying _for._ So I ask you to shepherd my soul into whatever comes after this. I am ready for another grand adventure."

Then he faded softly into sleep, and sometime later, he died.

xxx

Anna's son, Michael, sat in the pews in a grand, airy cathedral. He was a grown man now, with dashing good looks and hair that matched his mother's. He was surrounded by other supplicants, bowing their heads as the man at the altar spoke. Inside each mind was a deep and personal connection to the spiritual, as diverse as the rainbow of colored sunshine that danced upon them from the stained-glass windows.

Elsa turned her attention to the cathedral itself. It resembled neither the Saint Adelaide in Arendelle nor the Notre Dame or Saint-Denis in France; indeed, Elsa had never seen anything quite like it. The nave was built entirely of marble, and in between the windows there were semicircular projections, carved to look like Greek pillars. Or perhaps the ones in the Domain of Glory. The windows themselves were set with magnificent portraits in stained-glass, and Elsa gasped as she recognized herself in their rainbow-colored panes, her legendary sword held aloft to her side.

 _Mother still thinks that it's silly to pray to you,_ Michael was thinking to himself. _But I don't think that it is. You may be my aunt, Protector, but I never knew you as anything but a hero. You have always been something larger than life to me, the mythical savior who sacrificed herself to turn away the darkness. Mother also doesn't think that you'll ever return._

 _But I know that a day will come when the sky is blue and cloudless, and the sun shines golden upon the fields, and all the world will wonder how evil could ever exist in such a beautiful place as this. On that day, you will return to us. I know it._

 _And on that day, the entire world will thank you for saving it._

xxx

Elsa was reborn as something greater as she fell to Everdark's monstrous form. She felt an icy chill course through her veins as magic sprung to life in her one more time. Rimeheart appeared in her outstretched hand, greeting her with the enthusiasm of an old friend. And then she plunged into Everdark's maw.

Elsa landed on a pane of ice and let loose with a burst of such immense power that Everdark itself screamed with pain. She threw Rimeheart into the shadow and it copied itself a dozen times over, thirteen blades piercing the darkness with their gleaming brilliance. The storm began to collapse in on itself.

Lighting struck Elsa, but she felt nothing at all. It was as if pain were only a distant memory to her. The shadows coalesced in a humanoid form again, standing far away on her platform. Elsa began to walk towards it, her thirteen swords hurling past her with a chill breeze.

Everdark threw a bolt of dark fire at one, but Rimeheart plunged through the flame and pierced Everdark's form. It became insubstantial, and flowed away from the rest as they rained upon the spot it had been. Elsa leapt to the air and was borne forwards by a chill wind, landing several feet away from Everdark and throwing out a hand.

It was a gaseous cloud right now, intangible and insubstantial, but Elsa clenched her fist and froze its form, forcing it back into reality as that same human comprised of shadow. Then with another flick of her wrist, thirteen Rimehearts plunged into its body.

 _AAAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!_

Everdark's scream of pain was like music to her ears.

 _WHY DOES MY POWER FADE?_

Elsa extended a hand, and the true Rimeheart tore free of the shadow and hurtled into her hand, landing with a satisfying thud. She approached Everdark as it lay skewered and broken on the ground, and found that she felt no pity for the thing that had brought her world so close to destruction.

"Your domain is destroyed," Elsa said. "On earth, the Unified Empire is hunting your followers to extinction. You wane like the setting sun, Everdark."

 _IMPOSSIBLE!_ Everdark clutched at its abdomen as smoke poured past its fingers into the air. Its form was covered with fractures, leaking red light. It was crumbling before her eyes. _THEY CANNOT HAVE BEEN DEFEATED SO QUICKLY!_

Elsa stopped before Everdark, Rimeheart poised to shear its head from its neck.

"You underestimated me," Elsa said. "And my powers. I slowed time for us as much as I could the moment that you arrived. It's just you and me, trapped here while reality marches onwards around us. As your supporters grow old and die, you lose strength. Before long, there won't be anything left of you but a burned-out shell."

Everdark roared and lunged at her in a final, desperate attempt to win. It cleaved at her with its wicked claws, and she stepped fluidly to the side, slicing through its arms at the elbows. Elsa felt as if she could see what it was going to do before it even moved; godhood had bestowed upon her a hyper-awareness that her expanded mind seemed easily capable of integrating.

Everdark's arms sharpened again, re-forming from shadow, and it punched at her face; she raised a hand and caught its forearm. It struggled against her grip, and to her amazement she found that she was stronger.

 _NO!_ Everdark howled as she shoved it to its knees. It collapsed under the weight of its own failure. _THIS CANNOT BE!_

Elsa felt exhilaration, and a triumph that spilt tears from her eyes.

"I am the Protector," she said. "I am the end, and the new beginning. May your death bring us, at long last, peace. May I never raise this blade for war again."

 _NO! I CANNOT DIE LIKE –_

Elsa swept Rimeheart through Everdark's shadowy neck, cleaving its head from its body. A thunderclap echoed through the sky, and the storm that raged around her began to melt away, revealing a brilliantly clear blue sky. The body that lay against the icy ground crumbled to ash before her eyes, sifting slowly into the breeze.

Elsa felt the kiss of a golden sun against her skin, and she smiled.

* * *

The End

of Arc Nine

of Immortal


	41. Epilogue

Author's Note:

Thank you to each and every one of my dear readers, who took this journey with me. My only hope is that it brought you some measure of the same joy that it brought to me.

I'm going to be taking a break from writing for a while, and when I return it will perhaps be to a different IP. But I don't think that I've set Frozen aside forever, nor even the very particular world of Trials of Light and Darkness. I'm confident that I'll be back, someday.

So it's good-bye for now, then.

xxx

Epilogue

 _If I'd known that I was never going to speak to her again, I'd have thought harder about the last words I said to my sister. It's still strange to me that some pray to her as a god now. But I have never known anyone else who lived quite as large as my sister. She was too big for her own legacy, in a way. I can still remember the girl who used to build a snowman in the parlor with me after our parents had fallen asleep._

 _Anna Siguror,_

 _During an interview with a biographer in 1890_

* * *

The Siguror Tomb,

Outskirts of New Arendelle

May 3rd, 1919

Hythirion's amulet hung like lead against Elsa's chest as she stared blankly at the magnificent stone sculptures that adorned the graves before her.

 _Empress Anna Siguror_

 _Mother. Lover. Friend, and Leader._

 _Heaven will shine brighter for her presence, and the best among us will strive endlessly to live up to her example._

 _Born June 21_ _st_ _, 1821. Died December 16_ _th_ _, 1900._

She'd been nearly eighty years old. Elsa's face was tracked with dry tears, but she no longer felt like crying. To her, it felt as if less than twenty-four hours had passed since she had left Paris to challenge Everdark. But an entire lifetime had slipped by. The sands of time had wiped everyone she'd ever known and loved from the earth. She turned and paced several steps, past the tomb of Anna's second husband, a man named Hugo who had taken the Siguror surname. She stopped before a simpler, stone coffin, adorned with only a square marble plaque.

 _Odette Marie Novare_

 _Mender. Scholar. Fighter for peace, truth, and justice._

 _May you be reunited with your beloved in death._

 _Born September 3_ _rd_ _, 1816. Died September 26_ _th_ _, 1899._

She'd fallen just short of the turn of the century. Elsa felt empty. Horribly, disturbingly empty. She could not even feel sorrow, for it did not feel as if Odette had died. She was just… gone, erased completely from Elsa's life. There one moment, and snatched away in the next.

"She was brilliant," Eleshka said softly. "They both were, really. Odette became one of the world's preeminent scholars. We owe to her all of the magical progress that the world has made, really. There are now seven universities across the world that exclusively teach spellcraft, and in total they have over fifty thousand students. She did that."

Elsa reached out and brushed her fingers against the marble.

"The world is more integrated, free, and peaceful for her life's work. And Anna is spoken of by the historians as the greatest leader that the world has ever known. It was her who pulled us out of the ashes and put us on the path to reconstruction after the Immortal War."

 _They have a name for it now. The fight that I finished yesterday is being written about in history books._

Elsa turned away from the graves. Eleshka stood on the threshold of the dusty tomb, backlit by the sunlight. As an immortal, she had the ability to alter her own appearance to suit her whims, and she now chose to present as a grown woman, with the same golden hair and blue eyes, but with higher cheekbones and a more regal appearance. Eleshka Pelerine had become the official ambassador between the nation of Arendelle and the Sea of Stars, and she wore a smart-looking suit coat over a charcoal skirt that looked modern in a way that made Elsa feel outdated. She even spoke differently now, in a more regal, dignified manner than she had as a teenager.

"Her decision to dissolve the Unified Empire is still controversial," Eleshka admitted as they turned from the tomb. "But I think that people are starting to come around."

Eleshka glanced sidelong at Elsa as they fell into step beside each other. "She was right to do it. The empire may have been the right call during the war, but the risk was too great that one day a dictator would end up on the throne."

"Hans and I talked about that, when we were dreaming the whole thing up. We'd always known that one day, we'd have to ask Anna to give up what we'd given her. I suppose that I should have known she'd be willing to do it herself."

"Michael was the first president of New Arendelle," Eleshka said. "And some of his sons and daughters are in politics as well. I think that Agnarr would have been proud that his legacy in the politics of this country has lived on."

Elsa looked around the graveyard. It was behind a small, quaint-looking church that serviced a suburb of affluent-looking manor houses that had been constructed in the northern foothills, on top of the ancient, hereditary Siguror tomb that had been raided by Namar Sadden in 1843.

"I feel like this is all a dream," Elsa said. "I can't tell whether it's a bad one yet."

Eleshka placed a hand on Elsa's shoulder. "You gave more to us than anyone else. You sacrificed your life to save us, whether or not you lived through that battle with Everdark. I didn't think that I was ever going to see you again."

Elsa smiled ruefully. They approached the strange metal contraption that they had rode to the graveyard in, and Eleshka opened the door to let Elsa sit. It was truly a strange thing, needing no horses to drag it but making quite a lot of noise with its motor. Elsa couldn't have imagined anything like it in her time, but it seemed that there were many such things now. She had come back to a foreign world of electric lights and clacking typewriters.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Eleshka," Elsa said. "I needed to see this, even if it wasn't happy."

"Of course, Elsa." Eleshka studied Elsa with a curious gaze, as if it were unsure whether to be worried for her. She climbed behind the wheel of the auto and turned it on with a splutter and then a hum. "What will you do now?"

Elsa didn't reply immediately, watching the beautiful green grasses roll by as they drove their way back to the road. Eleshka merged onto a dirt path with another auto passing by in the other direction, and she turned their vehicle towards New Arendelle, rising like a beautiful, gleaming beacon against the horizon. It was built on the ruins of the old city, a striking modern capital to a country that was now leader of the world in so many ways.

Even here in the countryside, Elsa could hear the faint whistle of a commuter train, arriving at its station.

"I'm not staying," Elsa said, a tremble in her voice. "This place isn't my home anymore. There's nothing for me here."

Eleshka turned to face Elsa and smiled sadly. "Will you return to the Domain of Glory?"

Elsa nodded.

"I'll give you a visit sometime," Eleshka said, reaching over to take Elsa's hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

That made Elsa feel a bit better, somehow. The bleak, hopeless spiral that she'd been in since she'd returned to the world seemed… less complete. Anna, and Odette, and Hans, and Kariena might be gone, but she still had someone.

She wasn't alone.

"I'd like that," she said, squeezing the hand back and fighting tears.

 _That's enough crying for one day._

"Oh! There's one more thing," Eleshka said. "Open the glove compartment."

Frowning, Elsa popped open the little cubby before her against the dashboard. Inside, there was a sealed letter. Elsa turned it over in her hands and gasped sharply when she saw Odette's handwriting on the front. _For Elsa._

Trembling, Elsa asked, "What is this?"

"I don't know," Eleshka replied. "She just told me to give it you, should she not still be here on the day you finally return."

With unsteady fingers, Elsa broke the seal and took the letter from the envelope. She unfolded it and began to read, and found that she couldn't hold the tears back any longer.

xxx

Hans Westergaard sat upon Hades's throne – it was _his_ throne, actually; it had been for almost eighty years – and awaited a very special new arrival. He adjusted his position on the stone chair and attempted to look languid and uninterested.

A young man with dark hair and a haunted look in his eyes stepped into the chamber. Hans had a difficult time continuing to look impartial, because he saw himself in this boy. Hans recognized his desperation, and he was fascinated by the boy's potential.

"Good evening!" Hans shouted, his voice booming powerfully throughout the cavernous room.

The young man remained where he was, a frightened look in his eyes.

"They tell me that your name is Harrison," he said. "I don't like that. I used to use Harrison as an alias during some rather dark periods in my life, and I don't want to be reminded of it. So I'm gonna call you Harry. That okay?"

Harry Carter seemed to be at a loss for words. He stared, unsure of how to reply.

"I'm not what you expected me to be. I get that a lot," Hans said.

"I'm confused," Harry said eventually. "Why exactly was I brought here? Just what is it that your man offered me?"

Hans smiled crookedly. "A job, kid. I could use a guy like you."

"A guy like me?" Harry repeated, incredulous. "What for?"

"Oh, a little of this, and a little of that," he replied, still grinning. "You'll be my personal right hand, kid. And perhaps most importantly, you'll get a second chance at a life that may not have treated you right the first time. I know how important second chances are."

A hopeful glimmer appeared in Harry's eye, and he smiled.

"Alright, then. Sign me up."

xxx

The Watcher sat in a rocking chair on the porch of a little farmstead set in the foothills of her realm. No one lived here, but it remained nonetheless, in part because she found it charming. Perhaps because she had never lived a 'normal' life, she found these sorts of pastoral comforts pleasing. She turned the page of her book, a delightful one that had been written by Odette Marie Novare. Titled _Reinventing the Wheel,_ it described the successes that she and her teams of researchers had made in remastering some of the ancient rituals that had been lost to time when Celestus fell. They'd even broken new ground, discovering things that even immortals like The Watcher were surprised by.

"It's a lovely day, isn't it?" Hans said as he approached the farm, walking up the winding path that led to the porch.

The Watcher looked up and smiled at him, closing the book. "Hans. You're early, and you're also awfully chipper today."

"Why shouldn't I be?" Hans said, leaning against one of the posts on the porch. "It's a damn good day. I finally met the man who's going to become my new employee, I get to see the love of my life today, and word among the Sea of Stars today is that a certain dark presence that has been haunting our worst nightmares for the better part of eight decades was finally put to rest last night."

"So it is done then?" The Watcher said, thoughtful. "I wasn't supposed to take a side in the conflict, but I must admit that I'm pleased. Such a very long ordeal to finally be done with. But in any case, I won't keep you waiting. You must be quite eager to see her. She's positively bubbling with excitement herself."

Hans grinned. "Yes. Yes, I'd quite like that."

xxx

Hans stood at the prow of a pleasure yacht, mist dusting his face while the sun glowed down upon him with the perfect amount of warmth. Kariena Tae stood by his side, one hand cupping the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair.

Death was supposed to be immutable, and The Watcher, supposed to be its warden. Convincing her to let him break the natural laws so brazenly had been difficult, but he'd given her many concessions, and eventually they'd come to an agreement. Once each year, The Watcher opened the Starlit Gates to Kariena Tae, and let her spend a magical, perfect day with Hans. But as the sun set, she had to return.

Even one perfect day each year meant an endless sequence of them to someone with an immortal life, and that was enough to make him happy. Hans looked forward to each and every one of them.

"Where should we sail to, love?" He asked, turning to Kariena and admiring the way that the sun turned her eyes to molten gold.

"Wherever the wind takes us," she said, cupping the sides of his face in her hands. "Anywhere under this golden sunshine is home as long as I'm with you."

He kissed her, and broke away with a grin. "In that case, I've always wanted to see Tahiti."

Kariena laughed, and they turned to set the sail together.

* * *

The End

of the Trials of Light and Darkness Saga


End file.
